


Arkham

by AnonGrimm



Category: Batman - All Media Types, The Joker - All Media Types
Genre: "Foul" Language, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Beating, Blood and Gore, Castration, Consensual Non-Consent, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drugs (Medical), Drugs (Recreational), Dubious Consent, Female Homosexuality (Implied), Graphic Sex, Graphic Slash Sex, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I'm serious about the gore, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Medical Procedures, Medical Torture, Medical Trauma, Misogyny, Mutilation, Necrophilia, Obsession, Oral Sex, Prostate Milking, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Self-Harm, Sexism, Torture, Violent Sex, Yeah the tags keep getting worse, abuse of a corpse, extreme violence, rough anal sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonGrimm/pseuds/AnonGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker has landed in Arkham again with a long sentence ahead of him in solitary. While plotting his next escape, he gets a visit from the Batman. Two-Face has been wreaking havoc and Batman wants Joker to divulge clues in how to stop him or cure his madness. Joker pretends to listen as a new game begins to bloom in his fractured mind. Can he crack that cold strength and find a weakness, find a way to warp the Bat?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paths and Games

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not post this story anywhere without the author’s permission. Thanks. Feedback and constructive critiques are welcome, too. Just comment, email me at anongrimm@msn.com or tweet: @MET_Fic
> 
> This story involves some taboo subjects (see tags) -of course, for most of us, Heath Ledger’s immortal embodiment of the Joker is warning enough.
> 
> TIMELINE: This story occurs a year after the Dark Knight, with the Joker back in Arkham Asylum again after his first escape. He and Batman have fought often in that year.
> 
> For purposes that serve my plot, Batman talks about Two-Face as if he is still alive. He tells the Joker they lied about his death. If you haven’t read any Batman Comics or seen the movies, I’ll still only be a little ahead of you, since I’m a Marvel fan by trade 80% of the time. I’ve glanced at a comic or two, and seen most of the films. I’ll ask veteran fans to please forgive any unintentional lapses in canon. Batman’s characters owned my childhood, but I haven’t gotten into DC as an adult, and that’s why this is going to be firmly lodged in movieverse. However, I’ve been collecting Joker graphic novels like a fiend and since I do tend prefer comic canon, I will be using as much information from those as I can. Yet in the end, Ledger’s Joker is who I fell for, so that’s my Joker of choice.
> 
> I am using the fandom researched idea that the Joker is hypersensitive to all sensory input such as sounds, smells, etc. It doesn’t mean he can hear you talking from a mile away, but it can mean that if he’s out of his head, even nearly unconscious, he can still hear and remember what is said around him, even if it has to get remembered and pieced together later. I’ve given him a photographic memory, as well. I’m also adopting the fandom researched idea that the Joker may not actually be insane at all – that he may represent some new type of evolutionary jump in humans and that his hypersensitive abilities and his very real mental damage (likely from extreme abuse and/or trauma) could contribute to the appearance of insanity (my X-Men mutants fandom is showing). It is generally accepted that no mental health professional has ever been able to figure what is “wrong with” him. I also like the idea that he may be a war veteran (Iraq, Afghanistan), but that doesn’t come into play much, here. Not much is known about the Joker at this point, except that he’s a psychotic madman devoid of empathy - a lover of chaos, who seeks to prove that everyone is as warped as him if the right buttons are pushed. Joker has little care for money and is not motivated by greed. He steals money to create chaos (and bombs) and not due to any desire to have wealth. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

Tell me exactly  
what am I supposed to do?  
Now that I have  
allowed you to beat me  
Do you think that  
we could play another game?  
Maybe I can win this time?  
I kind of like  
the misery you put me through  
Darling, you can trust me  
completely  
If you even try  
to look the other way  
I think that I could kill this time

It doesn’t really seem  
I’m getting through to you  
Though I see you weeping so sweetly  
I think that you might  
have to take another taste  
a little bit of hell this time

~ The Game (Disturbed)

*****************************************************************

Tangled in paths within paths, the Joker’s mind raced – rat-maze swift – reading possibilities scratched on the walls.

The orderly who brought his food was terrified of him but so packed with neuroses that cracking him would be an utter bore. The nurse, pretty little cunt in a white skirt far from regulation length, was a better prospect. Yet the real curiosity was the doctor she fucked behind closed doors.

Dr. Tanner was a scintillating mess, a true challenge – but his main weakness was a wet slit, and alas, the Joker was fresh out.

He sat slumped on his bunk in thin orange prisoner scrubs and listened when the hollow screams just outside of the back corner of his cell abruptly resumed. The sound soothed the itch behind his eyeballs, nearly lulling him into a half-stupor within moments.

_Wish they’d stop doping that one up. How do they expect me to get any sleep in blinding light and perfect quiet?_

All at once, the bubble of paths burst into an emotional sprawl inside his skull.

A dull clang and thud snapped him alert again, though his expression and posture never changed.

_That’s the big bad door, road to freedom door... Someone’s here. I’ve been such a good boy – let it be someone ugly and raw ... and interesting. Come on – gimme some clay._

His gaze flicked to the door of his cell and away again when the shock of noise and movement behind it became real.

No one ever came in, not without clubs, restraints, and drugs; yet the sounds were footsteps only, no gurney wheels, no food cart. The point of solitary: to give him nothing to work with beyond the dullards in gray scrubs that pushed the tray back and forth. They were as speechless as they were brainless. The rare ones that did have the guts to speak did it only through the narrow glass.

The door rattled, and amazingly, opened. An unknown male voice hidden behind it was caught between fear and simpering worship.

“This is highly dangerous and if Dr. Tanner finds out I helped you, he’ll have me thrown in with one of these lunatics!”

The voice – a hum preceded it, sliding into his bones. “He doesn’t know. No one knows – or will.”

Simpering worship won. “Yes, yes sir, of course.”

“You’ve turned off surveillance to this hall and you won’t tell a soul I was here; keep the cameras off until I’m gone, or I’ll leave the door open when I’m done. Go back and wait for my signal.”

Joker smiled. Knowing his words wouldn’t be understood, knowing the bat probably wouldn’t try to understand them, he spoke to amuse himself.

“It’s true – St. Nick does know who’s naughty and nice: ugly, raw, and interesting.”

The tall, imposing figure in black entered the cell and didn’t flinch when the door clanged shut behind him.

Sliding his eyes over first, the Joker flicked them up and down the stone-faced monstrosity in the bat ears and flowing cape.

“To what,” he drawled, tone languid, “do I owe the pleasure?”

“Two-Face. You made him what he is; you’re going to tell me how to cure him – or how to stop him.”

With slow movements, he shifted until his thin shoes touched the floor, turning his body to face the Batman.

“Now darling, really – you don’t call, don’t write; then you finally visit, and it’s nothing but shop talk?” He tsk-tsked, a grin spreading on red lips. “A little jail bird told me Harvey was dead, the same night you first caught me. Well, the time you actually kept me locked up longer than twenty-four hours, anyhow.”

“We told Gotham what they needed to hear. Harvey died a good man, I took the fall. I need to catch him before he shows himself.”

“Interesting... You and your lapdog Gordon, I presume?” Staring unblinking into the bat’s eyes, his grin fell into a frown. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? Of course you wouldn’t ... you heroes never lie...” With a slow shrug, he sighed, feeling abruptly wistful. “Okay, I’ll play. Why not? I like the idea of dear Harvey operating in the shadows, waiting for a fresh chance to kill Gordon’s whelps ... messily.”

The flying rodent frowned, the eyes glaring down. “I don’t have a lot of time, Joker – don’t make me unpleasant company.”

“Time? Oh, yes – you always were in such a terrible hurry. Take some of mine, if you like; I have buckets of it.”

“Dr. Tanner’s reports claim that you want things. Conditions could be improved for you here.”

“He’s a doll, but he forgets himself. I’m perfectly happy but allow me to partially call your bluff; you’re still a hunted man, even if dear Harvey Two-Face remains at large, making such a mess everywhere he goes. Bargaining for privileges you have no power to grant insults me and will only cheapen you.”

“You’re the one who believes everyone has a price. What do you want, Joker?”

“Time share in sunny Florida – no wait, that was last year. World peace is so passé...” As he met the man’s eyes for the second time, a smile quirked one corner of his lips. “I want you, Bats, all to myself. Daytime visits, perhaps – I know you’re busy most nights.”

The gloved hands fisted. “Here and now is all you’ve got.”

“Ooo, are you gonna hit me? I’ve missed that, you know. That fawning sheep you were scheming with is new. Not surprising, where high turnover makes change the norm. That’s why they only let ‘em work in four hour shifts down here. He owes you, doesn’t he?”

“I saved his family – from you.”

“How noble – means he won’t mind if you get a thrashing in, hmm? That’s your ticket; he helped you slip in once, he can do it again.”

“I won’t play your insane games.”

“Ah, but I’m willing to help – if my condition is met. Then again, your plan of punching it outta me really would be fun – although it wouldn’t get you what you want. What time is it?”

“After three.”

“Oh, yes – assuming it is night, it’s hard to tell in here – that’s just inside of the graveyard shift; means you have less than four hours before your scrawny little acolyte goes off-duty. Tick, tock, Bats.”

His frown was a dark promise of violence, but the hum of the gravel voice betrayed a hint of the weight he carried. “Agreed – if you give me what I want.”

An affable smile on his lips, the Joker tapped his chin with one long finger.

“How to cure the late Harvey Dent: dig up your old girlfriend, his fiancé, and bring her back to life –”

The Batman crossed the small cell in two strides and almost crushed his throat in one large armored hand.

“Don’t talk about her!”

When the hand released him, he was tossed against the wall across the width of the bunk. Gasping and choking, Joker wheezed for breath before he laughed.

“You asked the question, Batty – that’s what Harvey wants; that’s all Two-Face wants. Nothing else will do, will it – for either of you. Or, have you moved on? Are there bat groupies?” His tongue darted out, flicked. “Come on, you can tell me – after all we’ve been through together?”

“There’s no one. How do I stop him?”

“Shove one of those metal bats into his head – on the burned side. Maybe that’d work.”

“I can’t kill – I won’t. Try again.”

“Some of my scars would beg to differ, darling – you’re capable, make no mistake. In fact, I’d wager mob money you’d be damn good at it. How ‘bout we stack your corpses against mine and see who wins? I’ll give you a head start, since I already have so many piled up.”

“You can’t hurt anyone now and they’ll never let you out.”

“‘Til I get out – again. I can’t wait to feel hot blood in my face. Might start with Gordon this time too, instead of always leaving him for last ... or perhaps that boy of his ... so trusting, so young.”

“He’s an innocent.”

“Oh, precious, there’s no such thing. Give him time; let the dirt grow, let it stick. Maybe I’ll help him along – once I’m loose, that is.”

Nothing at all telegraphed the first punch to his jaw; after that, head rattled, the others were a blur. Bubbling up out of the pain was a high-pitched shriek of laughter. The sound of it made his adversary insane.

Joker was lifted bodily and crushed against the stone wall of the cell, his ears ringing. A pair of blows to the chest and stomach knocked the breath out of him before he was dropped to the floor on his face.

“Get up,” the voice commanded. “Try again.”

Struggling to rise, he got to his knees. Realizing how close the bat was standing between one gulped breath and the next, he lurched forward and gripped the utility belt. Iron fingers pried his away, threatening to bend them backward.

Wilting with his head bowed, he didn’t try to free his hand. He leaned in instead and rubbed his scarred cheek against the muscular armored thigh.

His hair was gripped and pulled, but when he didn’t rise, the Batman grabbed his shoulders instead of ripping the hair out by the roots. Hoisting him up, he threw him in a jumble of weakened limbs onto the narrow bunk.

“I said, try again.”

Joker spit blood at the black boots. “Buy a really big butterfly net.”

With a growl, his dark opposite turned away, his clenched fist rising to strike the door. The sharp noise echoed down the freezing stone hall.

Joker’s fingers pressed to the marks on his neck and jaw that were no doubt starting to fill in.

“Whatever shall I say if Dr. Tanner asks how I got these pretty bruises?”

“Lie. You’re good at that.”

“Me lie, to protect you? Curious, hmm? Why would I do that?”

“Because you want me to come back.”

The door opened and the Batman slipped through it, silent as a thought. The noise of the locks echoed too, as did the steps of two men – one lurching with terror, the other striding away in anger. The Joker smiled as the outer door opened and closed.

“See you tomorrow, Lamb Chop,” he whispered and slumped, sliding down onto his back.

It was only then that he realized the screams of his fellow forgotten soul hadn’t ceased. His brain had no doubt been processing the sounds, but the thrill of dancing with the bat again had driven everything else out of his notice.

One hand curled around his neck, fingers fitting into the bruises as the other hand lifted. Holding up his index finger like a baton, he conducted the music of another’s agony as his own faded all too soon.

His weaving hand slowed and then drooped as the wails and shrieks lulled him into a contented stupor once more.


	2. Lines Crossed

You say you know just who I am  
But you can’t imagine  
What waits for you across the line  
You thought you had me  
But I’m still here standing  
And I’m tired of backing down

And I’m here now feeling the pain  
Of a thousand hearts  
Been to hell and back again  
I won’t take this

You try so hard to bring me down  
You can’t break the broken  
You still don’t seem to understand  
It’s your turn to see just  
How it feels to be me  
How it feels to be knocked down

And you’re here now feeling the pain  
Of a thousand hearts  
You’ve been to hell and back again  
You can’t take this

Remember this feeling  
How it feels to be alive  
Now you see me through my eyes  
And we’re here now feeling the beat  
Of a thousand hearts  
Coming back to life again  
We can make it

Remember this feeling  
Remember...

~ Anthem for the Underdog (12 Stones)

*****************************************************************

The Joker woke from a dream of fire with his hand clamped on his swollen cock. Groaning low in his throat, he tightened his grip and pumped. His other hand hovered over it, waiting, two of the fingers lifting the waistband out of the way to help matters along.

Needing no fleeting images of bare and sweating flesh to induce him, his mind turned back to the dream.

_Is it the hospital? Alas, there was no time then to diddle as Gotham burned._

He sucked in his breath as it coiled in his belly, clenched his teeth when it burst. Catching most of it in his palm, he fisted the hand around the pearl-pale mess and carefully drew it out of his waistband. Pushing himself up to sit, his head throbbing, he leaned back and began working the slick into his lank sandy hair.

A few inches at the ends and some random streaks were still rancid green, but most of it had grown out or faded as his hair grew longer. It had started to creep past his shoulders and would require more to get it all coated properly – but that would have to wait.

Slouching where he sat, head lowered, he lifted his gaze to the thin window in the door and spread a slow grin at the wide eyes that stared in at him.

Twisting his torso, he slammed his fist into the stone wall, abusing the scarred knuckles until they gave what he needed. Wiping red across his face from the leaking skin, he used fingertips to smear it into a careless stained grin over lips and scars.

The Joker turned his refreshed smile to the window, but the orderly had already fled – forgetting to work the slot for the tray.

~ ~ ~

Ignoring hunger was simple as he poked and picked at every word the Batman had said as if he were tearing at scabs.

He heard the outer door open and then swing shut, followed by a familiar set of footsteps. When they stopped, he spoke to them without looking up.

“Good morning, Dr. Tanner.”

“You’ve been injuring yourself again.”

Joker shrugged. “A necessary process, since you won’t grant my request for a little greasepaint.”

“You’re pale enough without it these days. Are you going to stop terrorizing Charlie?”

“Alas, no. He’s my last bit of entertainment in this world, at least from inside this hole – for now.”

“If it doesn’t cease, we’ll have to try a few new drugs that might convince you to behave.”

“Is she sweet or salty?”

“What –?”

“Nurse Alice – the last time you entered my hole with your pills and straps, you’d just finished with hers. Imagine that, conducting our session reeking of cheap sex and cheaper French knock-off perfume. I’m curious, Doc – did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Opting to dismiss the question, the psychiatrist frowned through the glass. “Suit yourself. I’ll just have this tray picked up by Charlie.”

“He might never come back down here; it’s so hard to get good help these days. Tote the hash yourself if you’ve a mind to deprive me.”

Unable to resist, the man asked, “What did you do to him?”

“Not to him, to me – just applying a little pomade; I have to look my best.”

“You never care about your appearance – obviously.”

“Tonight is different.”

Small light eyes narrowed, the thin man frowning his best suspicious frown. “What are you talking about?”

“I have a date – with my imaginary friend, Alice. Not your Alice ... don’t be jealous.”

Weariness replaced suspicion all too easily. “Where did you get pomade? If someone’s smuggling anything to you, I’ll have their hide. I might strap you down and toss your cell anyway, just to be sure.”

The Joker giggled and winked. “Ask Charlie – he saw; I can’t imagine he wouldn’t be eager to tell. Now if you’ll excuse me, Doc, I need my rest. Alice is a very demanding lady.”

He turned and stretched out on the bunk, one arm thrown casually over his eyes against the lights that never dimmed. Drawing his long legs up, he put his feet on the wall, one of them tapping to strains of internal music.

Dr. Tanner’s eyes crawled over him. They felt like little bug legs, taking in the slicked and sticky locks of hair, the tell-tale rumpled front of the prison-issue pants. When the disgusted huff of breath sounded, followed by quick footsteps and the door opening and slamming shut, Joker smirked under his forearm.

_Tonight, in the wee hours before dawn, Alice will jump down the rabbit hole. Question is, what shall I do with him when he lands?_

~ ~ ~

Joker paced, the bat did not. “Technically, I gave you what you wanted last night. Not what you need, but what you specifically asked for.”

“I don’t agree. There must be a way to reverse the madness – without killing him.”

“Catch him and send him here, then. Do I have to do all of your thinking for you?”

“This place wouldn’t cure him – the staff gets locked up here as often as the disturbed people I send to them.”

“That’s all preacher to choir, Bats, though you sing it so prettily. Yes, the old girl has her problems, I admit it.” He patted the stone wall with affection when he reached it again before resuming his stalking pace in front of his visitor. “Then again, we all have things that require improvement; for instance, I’m told that I slouch.”

“I’m not here to chat, Joker. If you have a point, find it.”

“A point: you don’t wanna cure Two-Face; you want Harvey Dent back, as he was. I wonder why? The brave eradicator of the mob, the man who might have made you obsolete – are you tiring of the game?”

With a growl, he turned to go, but the Joker’s next words stopped him cold.

“I can give you what you need, you know.”

“You’re a fool, not an idiot. You don’t know me at all.”

“Don’t I? We’re in the same sharp bag of wet mice, mental health-wise. Also, I’ve had enough experience with psychotherapy by now to be an expert.”

“As the patient – I doubt if that qualifies you to help someone else.”

“Ah, but now you’ve admitted to needing help.”

“Goodbye, Joker.”

“Very well, you drive a hard bargain – I’ll offer something I know you want, though I’d still rather attend to what you need.”

“Why do you want me to come here? You should hate me, shouldn’t you?”

“Hate you?” Stopping short, Joker turned and stepped up behind the bat. Hands pressing on the cape, he laid his cheek against the broad stiff back. “Why would I? You complete me, sweetheart, I told you. We’re two sides of a defaced coin, you and I.”

He expected to be backhanded and beaten any second, his mouth watering at the thought of those fists. Then he noticed the stillness, the span of three short breaths before the first blow fell.

Mind racing as he was launched at the wall, he gasped before he struck it. The Batman followed, gripping his shoulders to slam him into the stone again.

Getting his arms up before he laid hold, the grip bruising, Joker’s palms pressed against the sculpted armor of the chest. His fingers framed the symbol that had driven Gotham’s criminals before it in terror. Beneath it, an all too human heart beat wildly.

_Ooo, the big bad bat is touch-hungry... What a shock. How will he respond if I…?_

Struggling to lift one hand, his fingertips brushed the bare skin of the broad chin. The lips above his fingers pressed tighter together, twisted into a frown – but the heavy body moved, stepping closer, pressing into the touch.

 _So it’s that, is it?_ Joker’s tongue darted out to lick salt-tinged lips. _The brute doesn’t even know it._ “Come on, Lamb Chop – what are you waiting for? Beat me senseless – then you can just take what you need.”

He was disappointed when he was thrown to the floor. One heavy boot came down over his sternum, pressed in.

“You have nothing I want.”

Fingers sliding up the boot, exploring the contours of the molded armor plates over the calf muscle, he whispered, “How ‘bout all the secrets of Gotham’s underworld? Quite a gallery of sinners, hmm? Most of ‘em have either worked for me or tried to – or licked my jaw to keep me from killing ‘em for fun or profit. I know where they hang their hats, who their friends are ... all sorts of candy for my little bat boy.”

“Why would you tell me anything about them?”

“Because they’re of no use to me and you are.”

“You wouldn’t trade for nothing.”

“I already told you what I want. Come to me, talk with me. Ply your fists if it makes you feel better – it does me ... but come back.”

“So that my being here can help you find a way to escape?”

“No, Bats, you misunderstand. I’ll get loose eventually, but out there all we do is fight. In here, with you so sure that stone walls and steel doors will keep your sheep safe, we could have a real discourse, you see.”

The boot lifted, moved, and the Batman walked away to rap on the door.

Twisting his body to face him, Joker remained on the floor. “Do we have a deal?”

The door opened and he went through it before he turned back to glare down. Joker’s breath caught at the haunted and conflicted look in those dark eyes, the road they paved before him stretching out into the blackest of possibilities.

“Yes,” the voice ground out, and then he was gone.

Rolling onto his stomach on the cold stone, Joker pillowed his face in folded arms and laughed until his belly hurt.


	3. Definitions of Madness

I would live for you  
And break my heart in two  
I would give for you  
Like only fools would do  
I would hear you out  
And tell you all I could  
I would take your doubts  
And show you what I should

Let me break  
Let me break you down  
For your sake  
I will break you down

I would try for you  
Try to walk you through  
I would fight for you  
To prove that I am true

Let me break  
Let me break you down  
For your sake  
I will break you down  
Break, break down

I would use for you  
Alleviate your pain  
I would lose for you  
Again and again

Let me break, for your sake  
Let me break  
Let me break you down  
For your sake  
I will break you down  
Break, break you down

~ Let Me Break (Emigrate)

*****************************************************************

“Well, I’m happy to see you – they’ve doped up my stereo again.”

“I prefer our visits without the screaming.”

“Hmm, not me. Peace and quiet makes my palms itch. I’d rather be out there with him, in point of fact.”

“They put you in solitary for your own safety – so the others wouldn’t kill you. After the ferries, nearly killing them all, most of them would like to try.”

Joker huffed, sticking his bottom lip out. “I was looking forward to playing soap hockey with the other boys, like last time.”

“You joke about prison rape?”

“It is a joke! It reminded me of kiddie softball. Did you ever play? Well, no, you were probably hatched. My experience with team sports was very ‘movie of the week’: I got picked last.”

He sidled up and touched the man’s shoulder again, all the better to share the secret.

“Turns out, they’re terrified of crazy – like it’s a disease.” Joker licked his lips and pressed one hand to Batman’s armored chest. “You’re not scared, are you, Bats? Can’t catch what you’ve already got.”

Frowning, the man gripped his wrist and twisted it to remove the touch. “Sit down.”

Lying down just to be contrary, the Joker sprawled out on his bunk as if it were a therapist’s couch. “Where were we?”

“Clayface.”

“Ah, yes.”

Putting his mouth on autopilot as he gave secrets away like candy, Joker let his fingers slip closer to the orange cotton that stretched over his erection. Even without looking over, he knew the bat had noticed it.

As a display of his lack of inhibitions, it could only heighten Batman’s awareness of the stranglehold he placed on his own body.

“Am I interrupting your private time?”

How had he not noticed his hand beginning to stroke the hard length? “Not at all. Oh, that?”

“That.”

“Raw hunger, these things, one just never knows when. I’m sure you know all about it.”

“Your file lists you as –”

“Oh, let’s not discuss ... fiiiles. I hate to be labeled; they slap a label on you right after they put you in a box – and I’m already in a box, aren’t I?”

Releasing himself, he sat up and faced the bat.

“How many times have you come here now? I’ve no way of keeping track.”

“Seven nights.”

“You’ve caught several of ‘em with my help, haven’t you – such a busy boy.”

He didn’t respond, but Joker had already seen how he needed to proceed.

“Every night you chase ‘em, then you come to me and stand there in front of the door like something ridiculously melodramatic – I could say ... ‘a nightmare made flesh’.” He smacked his lips as if tasting the phrase. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

Scooting over and reaching out, he used two fingers to walk out a foot away from him before patting the bunk. “You’re almost asleep on your boots. Assuming you actually are human under all that and could use the rest – take a load off.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Who would? I don’t even trust me. Listen, darling, if I get outta line just wallop me.”

“That’s hardly a deterrent – you enjoy it.”

“Oh, I really do ... but not for the reason you think.”

Patting the bunk again, he had to hide his surprise when the mass of black actually moved to sit on it.

He put his back to the wall, one leg half pulled up onto the bunk, leaving that boot off the floor. The gloved hands, almost knotted into fists, rested uneasily on the thick thighs. His head leaned back against the stone, the dark eyes watching the Joker’s every move.

“Why, then?”

“Because it’s you doling out the punishment.”

“You are quite mad.”

“There are many definitions of madness.”

“How do you define it?”

The Joker gave him a soft and secretive smile. “Freedom,” he whispered. “Now enough about me, it’s your turn. Tell me something, I’ve always been curious – are you human under all that?”

“No. Who’s left after Clayface?”

“Another face – or two … our son, Harvey.”

“Mad.”

“Now, now, who made him if not the pair of us? I’m not talking about squirting into some cunt and baking up a bouncing baby. We made him. You molded one half and I melted the other. Don’t worry,” he added, patting the thigh next to him and then leaving his hand on it. “I’ll be the mommy, if you’d rather not. Gender bending is more my style than yours.”

The fists didn’t move, and then the haunted eyes slowly closed.

“I miss him ... even though I can’t say I liked him personally. Admired him – but that’s different.”

“You knew him in private?”

“We’re not discussing me, Joker.”

“Aren’t you a little curious?”

The Batman grunted, but didn’t answer. He also hadn’t removed the hand from his thigh. Joker wasn’t entirely sure he could feel the touch through the armor, but he was reasonably certain he knew it was still there.

Turning toward him, rotating his wrist to avoid moving the hand, he placed the other hand low on the opposite thigh. The boot on the floor settled on its heel more solidly and the eyes watched him again, but the heavy body didn’t rise, didn’t tear him away to smash him with fists.

Joker leaned in until his mouth was close to the bat’s slowly parting lips. “You are curious. What could I possibly know about you? What is it you need that I can give?”

“Not this.”

“Exactly this.”

In the instant that he pressed his lips over the other man’s mouth, he knew he might come very close to death – but the Batman wouldn’t kill. His guts clenched in greedy anticipation of pain, but then the mouth under his began to respond to the kiss.

The hands were reaching and he would claim that was why he pressed into it, wouldn’t he? Slipping his tongue inside, the Joker tasted the lie as it was formed and sucked his breath into his lungs once before the brutal dance began anew.

~ ~ ~

A dark shadow bloomed in the corner of the cell.

With a groan, the Joker gripped the hard edge of something flat with a thin bit of padding secured to it and rolled to his stomach to block both shadows and light.

His head felt swollen and sore, as did most of his body. Pillowing his cheek on his hands, he hissed softly when one of them protested. Lifting it, he forced the fingers to move.

Still and silent, the gathered darkness watched him.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked the brooding figure.

“Tell me why.” Anger in the voice, but it was laced with enough confusion and anxiety to give him something to work with.

“You need it.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Why didn’t you just leave?”

“I was afraid I might have killed you.”

“Well, well – the Batman can lie. You saw me breathing. Why didn’t you leave?” When no answer came, he sighed. “You hate yourself these days, don’t you – for not saving either of ‘em? Probably denying yourself all manner of creature comforts as some sorta punishment, working yourself half to death for the same reason. Burn that candle at both ends for long, precious, and there’ll be nothing left of you. That, I have vast experience with.”

“I loved her.”

“I killed her. We have so much in common, thanks to her. Don’t you want revenge?”

“Do you intend to bait me into seriously injuring you?”

“Humph. That would imply you haven’t already.” The Joker moved, tried to rise and failed. “Be a sport, hmm? Help a fellow up?”

Slightly surprised when he did, he grunted as he was picked up and placed in a slouch. He grabbed the closest arm and tried to pull the bat down next to him. He couldn’t have forced him as weak as he was – but then the man allowed the tug to move him and settled on the bunk.

With another sigh, the Joker shifted and leaned against the heavy shoulder. Breathing slow and deeply, he closed his eyes.

“This is your golden opportunity, Batty, do you know that? If you let me, I’ll save your life.”

“Why would you, of all people, want to do that?”

“Didn’t I say I’d never kill you, that I want you around? No one else is worthy for a man like me to joust with.”

His injured hand flexed again before reaching to grasp the wrist of the opposite black gauntlet, tugging it with a surprising lack of resistance across the wide torso. Lifting it to his mouth, he smiled at the pain in the delicate bones as he began to suckle the armored index finger, then the middle, and then both. He didn’t look up, but he could feel the stare.

Kissing the tips of the fingers, he pressed the palm of the hand to his cheek.

“Continue as you have and you’ll slip up; sooner or later, one of those cretins will shank you permanent. Where will I be then?”

“Here, in your box.”

“Perhaps. Yet you’d be six feet deeper than I want you and I would be bored. I hate boredom.”

Amazingly, dark humor rode the voice. He could feel it thrum in the shoulder, in the hand. “How would you save me, then?”

“By giving you a target for your hate – giving you that … and the release you crave.”

“No.”

“No?”

Turning, he put one thin shoe on the floor and half knelt with the other knee at the bat’s lower back. Meeting his gaze, he took the fingers into his mouth again and sucked, smiling around them as the dark eyes closed tight. When the stiff back bowed toward him slightly, he pushed down on the gauntlet and made it cup the hard crotch of the armor.

“You need it, you do – and now you’re starting to want it.”

Watching avidly as those black fingers moved, groped, he discovered the tiny oval indention just as one of them pressed it. Stifling a delighted chuckle, he saw the black cup over the groin move. It slid up into a groove inside the plate that protected the abdomen, leaving a glorious erection straining against the black material beneath.

With eager fingers, he searched it, found a slit similar to boxers and coaxed the thing out. Gripping it, firm and forceful, he moved. Pushing off of the bunk with his free hand, he fell to his knees on the cold floor. Crouching there between armored legs, he opened his mouth and devoured his enemy’s need.

The grunt above his head was followed by a groan that forced its way into his bones. He worked the hard and hungry flesh down, until it was partly inside his throat after three breaths of labored nostrils. The muscles there remembered quickly what they had to do and with the first deliberate attempt to swallow, the gauntlets came down.

One grabbed his shoulder, the other fisting in his sticky and stiff hair. Another swallow and he was being skull-fucked with abandon.

Fireworks burst behind his eyelids as he sucked when he could, ignoring the ache in his chest, his lungs. The ache in his pants was more difficult to block out, but within moments, it was over.

A guttural cry, a final flexing thrust of the hips, and the warm liquid shot straight down his raw throat.

When the gloves left him, he sat back on his folded legs before slumping to sit on the floor, gasping for air.

The softening cock had bumped out of his mouth to hang forgotten for the moment. Its owner was staring down at him, shock widening the eyes.

With a focused effort, and this time without aid, the Joker climbed to his feet. The bat might have been a statue as he clambered up onto the bunk behind him, spreading his knees to press his chest against the broad back. His arms rose to rest on the shoulders, his lips at the man’s neck.

“I’ve run outta secrets to trade, you know – besides my own, which aren’t for sale. This puts me at a disadvantage, somewhat, I suppose ... but if you come back, you can have anything else you might want ... or need.”

The statue moved all at once, giving him the choice of withdrawing his arms and keeping them or not. Drawing his hands in to his chest, the fingers lacing, he watched the cape shift and flow as the plates clicked back into place.

Stalking to the door and striking it hard, the bat waited, like a coiled spring, for it to be opened.

“If you come back, I’ll stay here – a little longer,” he whispered. One eyebrow arching, he added, “If you don’t, I’ll get bored. Then I’ll find someone to take it out on.”

When the door opened, the shadow left him without a word.

~ ~ ~

After pretending to sleep the next day for so long that he actually managed a few hours of honest rest, the Joker had woken to feel the creeping onset of night keenly – a sense that had been dulled after two months in solitary.

One quick rattle of the hall’s outer door started his internal countdown. Most of the black uniformed guards shortened their duties by that obligatory rattle, avoiding entering to visually check on the patient as they should have done. It gave him a handy if crude means of telling time. Not all of them were consistent in when they tested the lock on the door, of course, but most did it first thing after shift change and then amused themselves for the next four hours.

Waiting until after midnight, and then for that magic hour of three in the morning, he had grown tense and tight, eager for the next sparring match with the bat. An hour had passed, then another, before he admitted to himself that the pious flying rodent had stood him up.

Once a fresh door rattle announced the first dayshift, he rose from an angry and frustrated funk. Pushing the unproductive emotions aside, he cleared his mind for a new effort as wheels began their predictable squeaking in the hall. They grew louder and his smile started to stretch across his face – as if the sound was attached to his lips by a string.

 _A new day dawns, Batty – and this is on your head._ “Chaarrlieee...”

The wheels of the food cart stopped. The orderly was hanging back at the sound of his musical hail.

“I won’t hurt you, Charlie, when have I ever? Come and talk to me, please.”

Part of a wide face with dark doe eyes appeared in the window. “Not ‘sposed to talk to you, Mister J.”

“‘Mister J’? I like that. You needn’t be afraid, no one will know if we have a little chat. Security on this shift, the man watching the monitors, it’s Callahan, isn’t it? He’s got orange-red hair, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There you go. Callahan’s an addict, you see – if he’s watching us, all he’s seeing is a pair of large pink bunnies.” His smile was pure charm.

The man, mentally barely more than a child, chortled. “Got your breakfast, Mister J.”

“That’s a good man; push it on through, would you?” When he obeyed and the echo of the metal shunting noise faded, Joker held back a sigh at the sad prison food. “Have you eaten, Charlie?”

“Hours ago, sir, it was – when I came on.”

The morning shift had only begun an hour ago, but what was a lapse in intellect between potential friends?

“Why don’t you help me polish this off, then? We can share – after the night I’ve had, I’m only a little hungry.”

Extracting a limp thing that might have been a sausage in another life, he held it in his fingertips and pushed the tray back through.

After a brief hesitation, the orderly helped himself as they pushed the food back and forth. When it was gone, Joker got up from his seat on the floor and told the man to go to the window in the door. He obeyed so eagerly, it was hard not to laugh.

_Oh, my, so tediously easy, like luring a puppy with scraps._

At the narrow window, he placed his hands on either side of it and leaned in close to the glass. The meaty orderly, his expression full of guilty glee at having so much attention, got closer than he’d ever dared in months.

“Charlie, have you ever met Dr. Arkham?”

The look he got in response spoke volumes and in bigger words than this man possessed.

“He’s with the pretty nurse.”

“Oh, that’s Dr. Tanner, actually. You don’t like him, do you? Well, that’s one thing we have in common, anyway. Dr. Arkham doesn’t come this far down often. He’s the director of the asylum – not the one in the paintings upstairs, that’s his uncle.”

“They all say he ain’t here now. He went somewhere.”

“Yes, I know; trouble is, I don’t think he knows I arrived here. Off in his insane world, playing king of the castle, no doubt. For all I know, Dr. Tanner might not have bothered to tell him about my arrival. Arkham never could pick up a newspaper – but never mind. Do they say when he’ll be back? I need to speak with him, Charlie.”

“Don’t know, just heard he’s gone. This doctor...”

“Dr. Tanner, yes?”

“He was happy the other one left.”

“Was he now? When the cat’s away, hmm? Charlie, would you like to be my friend? My other friend didn’t come back to visit me last night and I’m terribly lonely.”

With a wince, he drew back. “Get in trouble...”

“No, no, you won’t – it can be a secret, okay? Here, I’ll tell you two secrets – one of yours and one of mine.”

“You know a secret ‘bout me?”

“I do. I know that you used to live here, upstairs, in a room that locked. Oh, nicer than this one. Then Dr. Wilson, the man Dr. Tanner replaced, he let you out and brought you down here. He gave you this job. He used to let your grandmother visit and when you started working here, he let you go back home to live with her.”

Slack jawed, Charlie stared. “Can’t tell this doctor, please? He’ll send me back up.”

“Oh, I won’t – because it’s a secret.”

“How’d you know, then?”

The Joker placed one long finger beside his nose. “Because I’ve got magic... Now, do you wanna know my secret?”

Vigorously nodding, he smiled.

“If I can speak to Dr. Arkham, he’ll give me a magic word that will let me go anywhere in this hospital that I want – even outside.”

“He’s magic, too?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You’re magic; can you make a wish come true?”

“Tell me the wish, Charlie.”

“My gran needs an operation, but she says she ain’t got the money. I work, but it ain’t never gonna be enough.”

“Hmm... I can grant that wish – once I have the magic word. So are we friends now?”

“Secret friends?”

“Secret, yes.”

“Yes, sir, Mister J.”

“Excellent. Of course, friends help each other, so you must do a favor for me, all right?” Smiling at his reluctance, he clucked his tongue. “Don’t worry, it won’t get you in trouble. You work all day, don’t you? I know you do, because you take very good care of me all through the day, bringing food. Yes?”

“Yes, sir, all day. I work hard.”

“You do, indeed. Before you go home tonight, I want you to talk to the night nurse – the ugly one – and give her a message from me. Have her come and see me, so I can ask her about Dr. Arkham.”

“She don’t like me, Mister J.”

“Don’t worry about that, just tell her I need to speak to her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Charlie, did you tell Dr. Tanner what you saw me doing that day, around a week ago? I’m afraid I frightened you – did you tell him?”

“No, Mister J, I wouldn’t never tell on you!”

“That’s good, that’s fine, but did you understand it? You do that, don’t you, touch yourself?”

“No, sir, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My gran says...”

“Yeesss…?”

Blushing scarlet, he looked away. “She says it’s ... wicked.”

“Ah, I see. Well, for some it might seem that way, I suppose. For me, it helps me keep my magic strong. I could teach you ... if you could come in here with me. Hmm, too bad.”

“You’d teach me magic, Mister J?”

The breathless wonder in the question almost broke him out in a giggle fit. Sucking in a deep breath instead, he composed himself.

“Well, I’d have to touch you, Charlie, and ‘til I see Dr. Arkham, I’m afraid I’m at the mercy of Dr. Tanner.”

“Maybe the ugly nurse, would she let me in?”

“She might, if you didn’t call her that. Her name is Helen. That would make you late, you know – won’t your grandmother worry?”

“I wanna learn the magic, Mister J. Please?”

Smiling, he pressed his fingertips to the glass. After a hasty breath, Charlie did the same, his thick fingers dwarfing the Joker’s.

“Ask Helen, see if she’d let you in. She may not be able to, if the guard is paying attention. Don’t forget to have her come to me. You should go back to work, now, though – I’ll see you at lunch. We can picnic again, if the next shift doesn’t care.”

“Yes, Mister J.”

He turned and scuttled off, the wheels of the cart sounding again, briefly breaking the silence.

_A picnic of drugs to make you nice and tractable, my friend – drugs I developed an immunity to during my first stay, before that twat Arkham decided I was a major player. Humph. As if Gotham General and the birth of Two-Face wasn’t proof enough._

Wandering off to the far side of his cell, the Joker sat on the toilet seat with elbows on knees and chin in hand. Turning his head, he glared at the bunk and the hard stone where he’d knelt.

 _That flying rat isn’t coming back; I misjudged his slippery slope, I suppose._ He ran his tongue along his teeth, remembering the feel of that cock in his throat. _Such a shame; I had other places I wanted to put it, to say nothing of hiding mine bat-deep._

Sighing, he tilted until he could pillow his head on the edge of the little steel sink.

_I’ll have to settle for the consolation prize: teaching the village idiot a few magic tricks in his nether region. Maybe I could talk him into bringing me a knife? Helen won’t – the bitch hates me. Question is, does she hate me more or less than she fears Dr. Arkham?_

Closing his eyes, Joker called up the vision of the Batman fumbling to open his clever armored crotch.

_Bastard was nervous as a whore in church and hungry as a starving rat on the path for a piece of cheese._

He sighed again and turned his thoughts to molding his new friend. It was lesser clay, but he had to keep busy.

 _Without a hobby, this dreary old pile of rocks might actually drive me crazy._ Giggling at the thought, he rose and stretched.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he began to pace. Out of habit, his lips moved to a count of steps in his head, separate from the in tandem count of passing minutes since Charlie had first appeared.

Each square inch of the cell was as familiar as his scars – especially the jagged lines of loose mortar on the back wall near the toilet. Low on that wall was a hole.

“A hole, a hole,” he sang, his voice lilting and cheerful. “A hole within a hole.”

His gaze lifted to the tiny point in the front right corner where wall met ceiling. By his time count, Callahan could be starting shift change and it was possible that the next guard might actually look at the monitor showing his cell.

For guards who might watch, he alternated behaving oddly and simply sitting or lying in a textbook catatonic daze. The switch made his occasionally honest erratic behavior seem normal and also bored the men into not bothering to check after seeing him stare into space for hours on end.

Faking catatonia was boring for him most of the time, too, but if he had something intriguing to occupy his mind, like how to tame a pet bat, or what he’d do when he got out, it could be surprisingly productive to leave his body on autopilot for most of the day.

Smiling for the camera now, he whirled in a perfect pirouette and turned his back on it.

_Tonight, Helen will come and perhaps she’ll know more about Dr. Arkham’s whereabouts. Intolerable, to sit and rot in this hole when there’s so much to be done, bat or no bat._

Glancing back down at the wall by the plumbing, he smiled for himself.

 _Within that holy hole – a keyhole ... all I need is the code and then I can go visiting._ Flicking his tongue out, he licked his lips. _I wanna new hobby, one worthy of my efforts – and ‘Commissioner’ Gordon’s son will be much better clay…_


	4. Pleasure and Pain

Touch, touch in the flame’s desire  
Feeling the pain’s denial,  
And your fingers in the fire

Look, look in the candle light  
Seeing the flame of life  
And my spell is so alive

Taste the love  
The Lucifer’s magic that makes you numb  
The passion and all the pain are one  
You’re sleeping in the fire

I gaze as the flame and fire burn  
And cry out the name for which I yearn

Taste the love  
The Lucifer’s magic that makes you numb  
The passion and all the pain are one  
You’re sleeping in the fire

~ Sleeping in the Fire (W.A.S.P.)

*****************************************************************

“I see you got a puppy, Joker. The rules here seem to have escaped you.”

He looked up slowly without lifting his head, shifting his gaze to the glass in the door.

 _She’s not really that ugly. Just enough, perhaps._ “Rules are for the weak – and the dead.”

Rising from his splayed seat on the floor, he moved to stand at the window. When he saw the hefty Charlie lurking beyond her starched white shoulder, he grinned.

“Dr. Arkham, my lovely – when might he be ‘in’?”

“I’m not sure; truth is, I don’t think the fools upstairs even know where he went. Dr. Tanner has your case, anyway – why do you need Dr. Arkham at all?”

“We’re in love, you see; he left me with child and so we must discuss options.”

“I suggest you have it and stop bothering me.” With a truly ugly smile, she added, “I’ll leave a note for Dr. Tanner that you have some issues you want addressed – will that help?”

“I doubt it.”

Matching her smile, he studied her damaged face. It looked like the paintbrush of Two-Face, but she’d been remade before Harvey had been reborn.

“Your burn scars are lovely in this light, by the way.”

“Fuck you.”

“Tempting, but alas – I’m not your type. So – how bored are you? Care to let me have the little one for a few hours?”

“I’d love to – but this door isn’t opening on my watch.”

Joker tilted his head, staring at her cheek and forehead. “Who was the artist?”

Glaring, she answered, “Don’t worry – I’ll let your doctor know you need more of his time.” She began to walk away, leaving a confused orderly in her wake.

“I’m sure Dr. Arkham will understand.”

The scarecrow figure turned, her hands clenching into fists. “Understand what?”

“How you think you know how to run his hospital better than he does; it’s obvious to me. When he returns, he’ll take one of his habitual witching hour strolls though all the darker areas of this place. Imagine his surprise to find me here and him all uninformed of it.”

She was good, almost without reaction. Her tell was in her right fist – the staccato strike of it to her thigh, a tiny movement.

“No one’s heard from him in nearly a month. If they do, I’ll be sure to get the word out to him about you. Now shut up and leave me in peace.”

Charlie crept forward as she left. “I’m sorry, Mister J –”

“Oh, no ... shh, shh, shh ... it’s all right. She’ll find a way, like it or not.” Slumping against the door, he sighed. “Tell me about your grandmother, Charlie. Is she hard to please? Gets on your case?”

He listened with half an ear, but all he could feel was the passage of time into the wee hours. Eventually, the security guard who had helped the Batman began his graveyard shift. Charlie was chased away and scolded, and then the silence filled the air around him, packing him in.

Waiting, growing more angry and empty as each sloppy thudding heartbeat rattled in his chest, the Joker knew that he waited in vain.

~ ~ ~

It seemed that Dr. Tanner had received Nurse Helen’s note. As the Joker lay on the white tile, naked, dripping and freezing, he made a mental note to repay her in kind.

Three impossibly large brutes in gray orderly’s scrubs, the doctor’s dayshift brute squad, waited for their boss’s next command. He had managed to injure two of them: one sore groin and a broken pinkie finger, respectively, but it wasn’t enough to take them out of the game.

“I didn’t know he was so ... fit,” Nurse Alice commented in a breathy whisper.

Dr. Tanner frowned. “He only bothers to build his strength in order to be more capable of harming others.”

Joker lifted his gaze without raising his head and stared at her, ignoring the rest. If one took an average cokehead supermodel blonde and poured her into a tight white uniform with an illegal skirt length, they’d only be halfway to making a creature like Nurse Alice. She didn’t wear her damage on her face as the night nurse did; it glittered in her hard and vacant blue eyes like a cancer. She was an allegedly incurable nymphomaniac and addict, and her aphrodisiac of choice was pain – someone else’s pain.

“Let me wash his hair,” she muttered.

“He’d just break your fingers. Gentlemen? The hose again, I think.”

Impassively watching them all, he searched their expressions and body language for anything he could use.

When the cold water hit him the second time with enough pressure to slide his body back over a few lines of tiles, he kept his face out of the spray the best that he could and concentrated on not allowing his limbs to shiver.

Eventually, no doubt at some unseen gesture from the doctor, the water struck his head and face point-blank. He managed to close his eyes in time, which barely helped, but could only lie there as his hair was flushed clean and the brutal scars on his cheeks painfully exposed.

“Enough. Bring him.”

The short club was expected, connecting three times with torso and head before he lost consciousness.

~ ~ ~

Strapped down, still nude and dripping, he took stock of the combined pain and pleasure that assaulted his body at once.

Needles had pierced his chest – five of them. A small and delicate hand grasped one of them and pulled it out. Something hot and constricting had claimed his cock – a mouth.

The Joker opened his eyes and flicked his tongue, gaze roving around the room before he bothered to look down at the nurse. What she was doing, and planned to do, was obvious and predictable.

Dr. Tanner had stepped out but the orderlies were ranged around the treatment room and staring at the nurse, their simple hungers written plainly on their thick features. One of them winced in misplaced empathy before the needle grazed his scrotum.

Glancing down, he sighed. “I thought you were a creature of vision, sweetheart – not so basely common. Ah, ah – don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“You don’t think I’ll do it?” she asked, her red lips hovering over the slick head.

“Hoping you will, I’m afraid. Sorry to disappoint.”

She claimed his cock again, sucking deliciously. One hand stroked up the muscles of his abdomen over the strap as the fingers of the other pierced his sack with the shining needle.

Joker gasped, his back arching as far as the restraints allowed. “Do it again, cupcake; oooh, you’re talented after all, aren’t you?”

When she released him only to clamber up onto the table over him, he laughed. Spreading her knees to straddle his hips, she grabbed his cock and guided it in, leaving the needle stuck in his sack.

No obstructions as banal as hose or panties were hidden under the white skirt, and as she fucked him hard and fast, she watched his face. Now and then, she looked over at the three men and warmed to their rapt stares.

He was close when the door opened and grinned at the disgust in the doctor’s voice.

“Alice! Stop her, you idiots!”

Joker sighed when they pulled her off. “I see why you ‘treat’ her more than me, Doc – nice, very nice.”

“Stupid bitch!” Dr. Tanner glared at her. “Dwight, take her out of here, now; then go to the infirmary and have them look at your hand.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, Joker whistled. “She’ll be all over him before they even get upstairs, you know. I hope you give yourself regular shots of penicillin.”

Ignoring the joke, the doctor asked, “How are we feeling today?”

“Better now.”

“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

The way he selected another needle and pulled it out of the Joker’s chest with a smile told him that they had been his doing; Alice had merely been borrowing his toys.

With deliberate and fascinating malice, he jabbed the needle into the top of the hard and slick shaft of the Joker’s cock. It twitched, stealing a grunt from his patient’s unpainted lips.

“Aw, Doc – didn’t know you liked me that way.”

Glaring down at him, he fished a little recorder out of the pocket of his white coat, his voice turning clinical and distant.

“The subject appears to be masochistic but this may be an affectation adopted for the purpose of shocking others. Yet his control over his physical responses is ... impressive.”

“Gonna make me blush,” Joker quipped, giving him a wink.

“William, come here – cover his eyes.”

Five digits and a palm, wide and out of reach of his teeth, blocked his sight. It didn’t leave him in darkness by any means, but the red flare of the light through the fingers was distracting.

“Can the subject control his responses when he is unable to tell when the pain will occur?”

“Yes, if you keep talking about it – and breathing.”

A third needle’s tip was stuck in the skin of his scrotum. Just before it pricked, the doctor’s breath caught, allowing the Joker to remain still. He attempted calm as well, but the needles were bringing him achingly close to a thwarted climax.

“See?” he taunted.

Figuring it out, Dr. Tanner fell silent, even attempting to hold his breath.

Joker didn’t focus on him or his needles; if he did, he might come too soon and he wanted to experience this game without anticipation now. Unexpectedly, his thoughts veered to the bat. Surprised, he examined the phenomenon.

The image of the abruptly vulnerable cock, as hard as the armor that no longer protected it, danced between the red clamped fingers.

_Texture ... and taste ... spiced with the hunger and dismay of the man. A man … trapped and drowning inside that winged shadow..._

Striking without warning at all, a needle stabbed into the wet slit of his straining cock, half of it sliding in. His body convulsed in an instant, the blazing heat of it slamming him up against the straps. That blunt restraint heightened the sensations and his seed exploded before the doctor could even withdraw his needle.

William had jumped back, betraying his fear. Still wracked by aftershocks of pleasure, Joker eagerly looked down to see a Rorschach splash of pink-tinged cum covering the twitching muscles of his abdomen.

Breath short, he let his head fall back onto the table. “I think I’m in love.” Flicking his tongue out to lick the thick scar in his bottom lip, he shifted his gaze to the angry face of the psychiatrist. “‘Affectation’? Astute call on shock value, I admit I’m all about it – but that ... was gooood. Maybe you should go back to Harvard for a refresher course, hmm? Or change careers altogether.”

Through gritted teeth, Dr. Tanner ordered, “Take this monster back to his cell.” He plucked the remaining needles out as roughly as he could, all of them leaving thin trickles of blood behind.

Pleased that none of them attempted to clean him up, he got the first freed hand into the slick mess and palmed it over his wet hair before the two remaining orderlies could stop him.

Catching the disgusted surprise on the doctor’s thin face, he smiled. “Waste not, want not.”

“Move it, fast – get it out of my sight this instant.”

The giants obeyed, one of them pinning his wrists behind his back as the other one grabbed his legs. They wrenched his shoulders carrying him down the hall like that, his head bent at an odd angle against one barrel chest, but his carnal contentment didn’t let much else register until he was thrown back into his cell.

Delighted to see he had company there, he laughed when he fell on his hands and knees. Twisting and rising as fast as he could, Joker cupped the head of his bleeding cock, smearing blood on his fingers before holding them up like claws.

The orderlies were confused and angry, afraid of their boss’s wrath. They advanced, but having let him go, they were reluctant to try grabbing him without their clubs.

George yelled out, “Get out of there, Charlie, come on, quick!”

Joker advanced a step. “Never know what weird diseases a crazy man’s got, huh? Watch out – might catch something nasty!”

“Leave him alone!” Charlie tried to get in front of him, actually intending to protect him.

“Get back, Charlie,” Joker told him. “They’ll grab you and pull you out if they can – then where would we be?”

“You stupid moron!” William shouted at him. “The freak’ll kill your ignorant ass – you wanna die?”

“Go away! You hurt Mister J, and I’ll ... I’ll –”

“Leave him,” George said, already turning away. “Stinkin’ prick ain’t no loss. Dr. Tanner hates his guts anyway.”

William frowned, but started to back out after him. “Have a nice death, Charlie – you stupid fuck.”

The door slammed and locked, and the Joker wilted. He would have fallen to the stone floor again, but Charlie caught him. Picking him up, he laid him down on the bunk relatively gently for such a challenged person.

A rough wool blanket was spread on the bunk under him, a privilege he’d lost a month ago. The orderly drew it up and wrapped him in it. At his feet was a folded pile of orange cotton – a clean uniform.

Slightly irritated when the meaty hand began to pet his hair, he closed his eyes. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Did they hurt you, Mister J?”

“They tried … but they’ll never understand a guy like me.”

He hadn’t noticed until the warm blanket surrounded him, but he was freezing. The water had been cold and he was still soaked.

“Let’s see ... blunt, sharp, cold ... they’re only missing hot and loud.”

“Sir?”

“Nothing, Charlie, nothing. How did you slip in here?”

“The door wasn’t locked.”

“Brave man, good man.”

“You rest, Mister J, okay?”

Joker gave him a tired smile. “Wish they hadn’t decided to wash me.” Shuddering, he felt himself being dragged down by pure exhaustion. “Charlie, listen close – if anyone opens the outer door to this hall, you have to wake me, hmm? It’s very important and I trust you to do that, yes?”

“Sure, Mister J,” he answered, a slight flush to his neck and face betraying his pleasure at being entrusted with anything deemed important.

Reaching out of the blanket to pat his cheek, Joker sighed. “Good man.” Curling his hands up against his chest, he smiled again when the orderly began to carefully tuck the blanket securely around him.

As sleep crowded in, it was hard at first not to fight it off. Yet the solid warmth of his companion sitting on the floor next to the bunk allowed him to slowly let go. The man was crazy, duped into a loyalty the others might be surprised that they couldn’t break – but he trusted it like nothing else.

The Joker knew something they didn’t, of course. In all of their casual abuse, neglect, and disregard of a man like that, one bit of kindness, of giving the person a sense of his own worth in another’s eyes, was more binding than any other tie in that person’s miserable life.

Charlie was afraid of him. He knew he had power, even if he didn’t grasp what it was. He knew others feared him, too. To have that powerful and fearsome person befriend him gave him the first taste of power he’d ever had. Even more, to have that person depend on him for something – could potentially warp him into a loyalty that would never be broken.

Joker had seen it over and over in his fight for Gotham’s soul, as he had gathered his minions to him and gave them jobs to do. No matter what the cops, doctors, or even the Batman did to those addled rejects, no matter what the Joker did to them, they would be loyal – fiercely ... murderously ... loyal.

Secure in the knowledge that he had woven the net of the orderly’s emotions and needs perfectly to suit his purpose, Joker was able to close his eyes ... to trust ... to sleep.

~ ~ ~

He couldn’t determine what had woken him. The cell and hall were as silent as ever and the orderly, desperate to let him sleep, was as quiet and patient as the dead. Joker’s body still shivered now and then but less frequently or intensely, and his hair and skin were dry.

It was difficult to tell how long he had slept and useless to ask the man who had watched over him.

 _I’d spend more time explaining what a clock was and then I’d have to explain time..._ “Hello, Charlie,” he whispered, though his soft tone still managed to startle the man.

“Mister J! Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

His fingers rose to touch his scars. The absence of the greasepaint was always felt like a physical pain, leaving him more exposed than he had been on the tiled floor of the washroom. The stare of his enthralled companion made him turn his head.

“Got some things for you, sir.”

“Did you – but I didn’t get you anything. What did you bring me?”

He dug in his pants pocket and produced a small zippered silk bag. Joker rose on one forearm and took it. Charlie turned where he sat and unzipped it for him. Inside was a tube of scarlet lipstick, liquid eyeliner, a set of dark eyeshadow colors – and a little rectangular mirror.

“Where?” he whispered.

“Stole it from the pretty nurse.”

“Ah, you beauty! Gimme a kiss!”

The wet slip of tongue against his lips startled the man, but he pressed his mouth to the Joker’s without a qualm otherwise.

 _Granny must ask him for a kiss often; wonder if the old girl does it on the lips? First things first, lessons later._ “Hold the mirror, would you?”

Struggling with the blanket, he managed to sit in a slouch with it still covering his back and lap. Giggling with delight, he began to darken the pale and slightly bruised skin around his eyes. Pursing his lips, he rolled the lipstick up and drew a bloody streak of color over them. Turning his head, he filled in the scars until a vicious smile trailed and curled across his face once more.

“Oh, yes ... that’s it.” Putting the precious contents back into the bag, he zipped it and tucked it under the folded clothes.

Retrieving the mirror, he used it to inspect the finger bruises on his throat. Crestfallen when he saw that they had begun to fade, he sighed.

“That okay, Mister J? It’s like you like it?”

“Aw, yes ... hush, sweeting – it’s perfect.” He slipped the mirror under the clothes as well before he turned back to the orderly. Scooting closer to the clothing, he patted the bunk. “Come and sit with me, Charlie. We should start your lessons before they come back and make you leave.”

“I won’t go! I’ll fight them!”

His fists were huge as he stood. Dr. Tanner’s giants were bigger, but not by much. Joker took his wrist and tugged it to make him sit beside him.

“Shh, shh, shh ... be still, baby...” Leaning in, he kissed his cheek, leaving a red mark there. “Now you have to do what I say or the magic won’t work, hmm?”

“Yes, sir.”

Reaching out with eager fingers, he opened the man’s drawstring bow and pulled it out of the gray scrub pants. A considerable length of sturdy cotton: a million possible uses in one practical item.

Charlie flinched at the rustle of the pants being pulled down in front, the feel of fingers creeping in and grasping.

Joker gave the soft flesh a tug and a squeeze, smiling at his gasp. “There it is ... wakey-wakey.”

“Mister J,” he whispered, fingers plucking weakly at his wrist as the hand worked it hard and ready.

“Hush, now. It feels good, yes?”

Too flustered to answer, the man’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Joker thought about swallowing him down, but didn’t want to rub the taste of the bat out of his throat.

He did catch it when it blew. Holding his messy palm out in front of the man, he offered it to him.

“This is the magic, Charlie – this is how it starts. It was inside you and if you give it to someone else, put it inside them, it can do astounding things.”

Lifting a big hand to hover over his palm, Charlie asked, “Gran, too?”

Giggling, Joker fisted his hand and kissed the man’s cheek again. “You’re quick, you know that?”

The doe eyes that met his were shining with fear and pride at once. “What else?”

“I’ll show you how, yes? Let’s move the blanket to the floor.”

“You’re cold – you need it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll warm up. Spread it out.”

Joker rose and handed it to him, smiling as the man’s eyes couldn’t help sweeping over his nudity. Blushing and looking away, Charlie tossed the wool down and spread it flat with his shoes.

“That’s it. Now, let’s get you out of your clothes, mmm? Shoes, too. Laces? Splendid.” One-handed, he started to help by tugging on the clothes.

The simple man’s fear spiked in short breaths and widening eyes. “Have to?” he asked, thick fingers pinning the Joker’s wrist, stopping his tugs.

“Oh, baby ... being naked is scary for you, isn’t it? Don’t fret, sweeting, nothing to worry ‘bout. You wanna learn, don’t you?”

Swallowing hard and nodding, he kicked out of his shoes. Wide dark eyes locked onto the Joker’s as the big hands slowly stripped off the scrubs. Joker moved in and pulled down the once-white underwear, sinking to his knees on the wool.

“Lie down on your stomach, there’s a good boy. You can keep your socks on if you want.”

The body on the blanket twitched at the sound of the outer door opening and started to rise, but Joker flattened him with a palm on his back. The steps outside were not the guard, the doctor, or his goons – that only left the nurse.

“Be still for daddy.” For the benefit of his audience, he stroked his palm down the back and curled it over the ass, giving it a pat. The hand lifted to his cock next, the fingers thumping it to semi-life. “Oh, you do look delicious.”

A light clack on the glass in the door made him smile. Glancing at it, he watched the angry expression on Nurse Alice’s pretty face morph into one of cruel rapt pleasure. Tossing her a wink, he turned back to the orderly.

“Going to put it back in now.” Opening his fisted hand, fingers prying the cheeks apart, he wiped the cum into the crack of the ass. The first finger massaging it into the clenching muscle ring made the body twitch again. “Shh...” Confident that no spark of instinct would turn the bigger man against him, Joker pressed him down.

His cock had stopped bleeding, obediently hardening for him when he grasped it and rubbed the head across Charlie’s slick hole.

The big fists clenched on the wool, striking the floor under it when Joker began to push inside.

“It hurts!”

Leaning down, he kissed the wide back, smearing streaks of red on the shuddering skin. “Oh, yes, babydoll, it will at first. Mmm, feels good for me, though – so tight.”

Driving in deeper, he turned his head to look back at the glass. The blue eyes there were wide and enthralled. Charlie made a choking sound and began to cry, every muscle in his body tensing up.

“Ooo, sweeting ... that’s niiice.”

“Hurts...”

Fingers reaching up, he stroked the side of the wide face with the knuckles. “You please me, Charlie – you make me so happy, make me feel so good. Don’t you wanna make me happy?”

“Y-yes...”

Bracing that hand on the back, he reached for the mirror and broke it diagonally on the metal leg of the bunk. The smaller piece fell on the blanket, the other a jagged shiv in his loose grip.

Setting the point on the canvas of the back, he began to draw shallow cuts. The crying intensified beneath him as he juggled his thrusts with his art. He thought about simply slicing into the throat and continuing on as he bled out, but that seemed like a waste.

Inspiration dawned all at once and he had to stifle a laugh. _Nothing quite like an ace in the hole – and why settle for a bird in the hand when you can throw it at the one in the bush and wound them both?_ “This is the magic, Charlie – this is how you can save the day. Are you listening? Oh, baby, shh ... it’ll get better soon.” Laying the piece of mirror on the small of his back, he leaned down again to kiss and comfort. “That’s it – that’s my brave boy.” Timing the words for each thrust, he ground out, “You make ... daddy ... so proud...”

His guts clenching, heat spreading through his groin, he buried his cock and rode the man hard. A few strokes like that and it was over far too quickly. He laid his forehead on the man’s back and groaned, flicking his tongue out to lick the salty skin and bloody streaks as he came.

As soon as he could move, he pulled out and sat on the blanket, tucking the pieces of mirror back under the pile of clothes. Fingers stroking and grasping, he coaxed the orderly up to sit next to him. “Aw, there, see? You’re okay. Come here,” he whispered, clucking and soothing.

If he could have crawled into a ball in the Joker’s lap, he would have. Slipping his arms around him, Joker held him to his chest and petted him.

He didn’t look up at the door when the steps outside retreated. She would either tell what she’d witnessed or not, though it hardly mattered. Most likely, having seen her mirror being used as a weapon, she would keep quiet to avoid any blame in allowing him to get hold of it.

The outer door banged shut, the sound spiking the upset of his newest toy. Eventually, if he didn’t kill him, they would find a way to extract him – in the meantime, he had work to do.

“Charlie? Listen, sweeting – when you go home –”

“Won’t leave,” he protested.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to – if you wanna give the magic to your grandmother, to make her all better. I gave it to you so that you could help her. Then you can come back and picnic with me again, hmm?” The man clung to him tighter, but the heavy head nodded once. “That’s right; just do what I did to you. If she doesn’t understand, like you didn’t, just hold her down and do it. After, she’ll get better. Yes? You trust me, don’t you, baby?” Another nod bumped his shoulder. Grinning, he added, “You did very well. How are you feeling?”

Voice muffled against his chest, he muttered, “Still hurts...”

“I know, but it’ll stop soon. Later, when I’ve rested, we’ll try again and it’ll get easier.”

The body in his arms winced and started to shrink away from him, a little cry of fear and pain escaping his clenched lips.

“Now, Charlie, do you want daddy to get angry with you? I don’t wanna be angry. You have to be my sweet, good boy or I’ll leave you, give you back to ‘em – without teaching you anymore.”

Bursting into a fresh round of tears, the orderly grabbed at him, almost crushing him. “No, Mister J, please!”

“Hush ... shh, now, now – poor baby. Shh...”


	5. Midnight Sun

God Is a Man!  
It’s all right  
Everything is fine  
You live the perfect life  
Never one immoral thought inside your mind

What they say  
Does it make you feel ashamed?  
Isn’t everyone the same?  
Does it matter that it wasn’t your idea  
God is a man  
You know for sure  
The knowledge in and of itself  
Is more than we deserve

So you’ve tried  
And you’ve made up your mind  
Something’s still not right  
The devil you don’t know is still outside

~ Devil You Know (Face to Face)

*****************************************************************

It was the dark dream again, the blackness that breathed. He used to think it was his breath, locked in a coffin, buried deep – buried alive.

That was before the bat came. Now the dark was alive, more than just the absence of light. It had a pulse, a beating heart ... and breath cold on the back of his neck.

He heard the door, but didn’t care about it. Sinking deeper, miring himself in the inky black breath, he tried to swallow it, to make it fill him until it leaked like smoke from his pores.

Even in the midst of the dream, data poured in through the senses. It battered his mind relentlessly, leaving him both charged and scattered.

Beneath him was thin wool and cold stone: the lump of loyal clay was gone. Somewhere in the breathing dark, he had shifted away from it; had they taken it then? It didn’t matter. He was ready – his clay was ready, too: to spread malice like seeds, like smoke…

They were in the room now, speaking quietly, but there were too many breaths and not enough voices. Too many breaths…

His freshly molded clay had cried out when they took it, hadn’t it? It had screamed and called the name that meant nothing. He remained still, unresponsive – then as now.

The dark beckoned, lured, and he followed: as eager to let it whisper its secrets as to make it bleed.

Had the clay screamed?

 _Go,_ he thought, the word loose, fluid – it shined. _You’re ready – you’re my perfect instrument..._

Hands touched him, hard but careful. Something said the other name. The dark – it said it. He was half lifted, head lolling onto his shoulder, but the night, the breathing black, didn’t let him go.

“Joker! How long has he been like this?”

“He was out cold when I arrived on shift, I swear! He’d snatched the orderly, I heard; they drugged him to remove the man before he was killed.”

“Where did they take him?”

“He was treated and taken home to recover, sir. They said he got into the cell while the doctor was treating the patient. I don’t know much more about it, I’m afraid; I caught him talking to him last night and shooed him off. The man wasn’t that sensible.”

“He was unstable?”

“Appeared to be, to me. I often thought he should be in his own cell, not working here. Plus, he’s on shift all day, which isn’t generally allowed, let alone hanging about half the night.”

“Call the police, now – someone needs to examine that man, talk to him; they shouldn’t have let him out of their sight! God only knows what the Joker’s done to him; what he might be ordered to do. Now!” A gentle shake. “Joker?”

 _Joker. That’s ... me._ The darkness in his mind split into a black sun, its blinding, humming voice calling his name.

“Joker, wake up.”

“Sir? I called them. Do you want the night nurse?”

“No. What did they drug him with?”

 _Drug him ... dragged him ... me? No, it was gas. A puff in the face, and then all the clay could do was scream._ It had been beautiful, the twists and coils his thoughts had taken … but the darkness was leaving him.

“Joker?”

“Precious, is that you?” he whispered, his throat a scratchy mess.

Silence, even the breath stilled … then, “What is your real name?”

He tried to laugh but choked and wheezed instead. When he thought he could speak, he muttered, “Aw, Bats – shame on you for such base tricks.”

Opening his eyes slowly, he realized he was half in the man’s armored lap where he’d knelt on the floor to pick him up.

Smiling blearily up at the masked face, he asked, “Oh my – are we in love? When did I miss that?”

“You were either drugged or poisoned. What do you remember?”

“Gas, a puff of it to the face – it gave me beautiful dreams...”

“Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Well ... the night nurse, Helen, said that the orderly wouldn’t stop screaming after just getting a whiff of it.”

“Sounds like ... Scarecrow’s fear toxin! The doctors here use an illegal neurotoxin, a poison gas, to control their patients?”

“Mmm, so angry, and in my honor? Am I blushing? I can’t feel my face.”

“Out. Cameras off – leave that door unlocked.”

“Sir –”

“You think I’d let him get away from me?” Footsteps receded. “I’m going to lift you. Ready?”

“Ready and willing, big boy,” he slurred.

“You’re out of your head.”

“Oh, I am – I am ... but still willing.”

The strength of the body as it effortlessly picked him up, blanket and all, stunned him. The bunk was a bare cushion; the clothes that had been folded there had fallen to the floor.

He didn’t worry about his treasures as he was placed on the thin padding. He’d tucked them away before going back to molding the clay.

Slouching where he sat, he swayed alarmingly. Then the bat landed beside him, holding him upright with one arm around the middle of his back. With a sigh, he shifted into him and laid his head on the broad shoulder.

The blanket was wrapped loosely around him and before it could fall open, the bat caught it and swaddled him up like a baby.

“Not fair...”

“What?”

“I showed you mine.”

“You’re covered in bruises and cuts.”

“Jealous?”

“What did you do to the orderly?”

“Gave him a shot of self-esteem.”

“I’d rather not add to your bruises – what did you do to him? Did you send him off with orders? Tell him to hurt someone?”

“I taught him a magic trick.”

“The police will find him, bring him in.”

“Hopefully, it’ll be too late. I did warn you that I’d find someone to take it out on.” His hand fisted in the bit of cape he could reach – the fingers were weak. “You didn’t come back. I got bored.”

“I’m here now. They’ve been abusing you – who is responsible, this Dr. Tanner?”

“It’s true – you are jealous.”

“What he’s doing is wrong.”

“By definition, that means you’re wrong, too.”

The masked face looked away from him. “There’s a difference.”

Joker tsk-tsked as his fist opened. “So take me out of here on your white bat – or do you want me to let down my hair? Arkham Asylum has never been a place of model behavior, on either side of the locks; it never will be. Still, your concern is touching – even if you’re only upset that someone else marred my fair complexion.”

“You’re staying – but I will have someone investigate your treatment here.”

“Ooo, who? Your lapdog, Gordon? You can’t fool me, either of you – he can chase you ‘til his bloodhounds bleed, you still share a hairbrush.”

“Someone will investigate – you have my word.”

“The word of an outlaw flying rodent – lucky me. I’d rather have you.”

“This ... this thing, whatever game you’re playing – it’s just an attempt to warp my judgment, to worm your way into my head. It won’t work. I know what you really want – you want to get free so you can destroy this city.”

“Not destroy, remake.”

“In your image?”

“No, Batty, in chaos, in anarchy – it’s not about me, it never was. Rules and laws are shackles that all too often only bind the so-called ‘just’. Criminals pay no attention to ‘em, have you noticed? No. You. Haven’t. Punch first, ask meaningful questions later, hmm? The criminals and the law-bound citizens all want the same thing: an even break. Chaos can give ‘em that – you and Gordon can’t. Kills you, doesn’t it?”

“In the end, it’ll kill you ... and maybe me, too.”

“Yes, well, your trouble is, you never really bothered to understand me.”

“You want to see the world burn.”

“Oooh, I like that, I do – but that’s only a poetic bit of over-simplification, isn’t it?”

“That’s what you want.”

“Tell you what, precious, how ‘bout you stop telling me what I want and ask me instead. Besides, it’s not about want, it’s about need. Now there’s a difference for you: stand on want and yell over to need – you’ll hear an echo.”

“What do you need?”

“You – let’s get back on the floor, mmm?”

“You’re mad.”

“No. No, no, no. Not mad, not crazy – at least no crazier than you are. I am ... frighteningly ... brutally ... sane.”

“I have to go.”

“Coming back? Or do I have to pick another random target?”

“Tomorrow night – I’ll be here. I want ... to try ... to understand you.”

“Progress at last.”

“Dr. Tanner should be removed – is there any other doctor here that you trust to treat you fairly?”

“The director – Dr. Arkham; alas, he’s gone AWOL.”

“I’ll find him.”

“My, my, aren’t you a darling.” As the bat moved him over and stood, Joker slumped farther. Lifting a hand to his red mouth, he kissed his fingertips and blew. “Toodles, Lamb Chop.”

Embodiment of his darkest dreams, the shadow slipped away, locking the door behind him.

When the silence descended again, he slid down to lie sprawled on the bunk. “Ah, young love...”

~ ~ ~

Joker leaned against one wall with his bare foot up on it behind him and watched the bat pace.

Since it bothered him to see another man’s marks on his pale skin, he’d stripped his shirt off before midnight, working up the discipline to stop shivering by the time his visitor arrived.

Dr. Tanner had found a way to make the hall and cell frigid, as well as starting up a daily session with his least favorite patient.

“Paging Dr. Arkham, any luck?”

“No, but we’ll find him.”

“We, hmm? Does Gordon know why you’re looking?”

“Yes – he owes me. He sent someone to talk to Dr. Tanner this morning.”

“I figured. It made him cranky this afternoon.”

The bat stopped and faced him, fists clenched. He was keyed up and exhausted at once – a volatile mix.

“He did that to you because the officer asked some questions?”

Joker ran his fingers down his chest and stomach, brushing over the blue and purple bruises. “I do look good in purple. Don’t worry, precious, it was tit for tat – I bit him. Oh, and his nurse tried to fuck my strapped-down brains out before. I’d bet he’s more annoyed ‘bout that, really.”

“The nurse raped you.”

“No, no – you can’t rape the willing.”

“You were tied down; that doesn’t let you be ‘willing’.”

“Mmm... Sheltered, are we? Force is sexy to a guy like me. Why do you think I like you so much?”

“You’re thinner, too.”

“Watching my girlish figure? The new orderly is terrified of me ... and sane – so boring. Did you catch the other one?”

“Yes. He tried to kill his grandmother, but she’ll recover.”

“Oh. Well, can’t win ‘em all, can we? I’d ask for details, but you have ‘shut up’ face.”

“Help me understand. Why hurt a sick old woman, or her mentally ill grandson, for no reason?”

“You assume I had no reason. This is gonna take longer than you’ve got if you keep jumping to conclusions; aren’t you supposed to be a ‘brilliant detective’? Or is this blind spot reserved just for me?”

“Explain it, then.”

Joker sighed. “That ‘old and sick’ woman is the reason Charlie is mentally ill – or at least the reason that what he was born with got worse without any help, ‘til he was ripe for my tinkering.”

“He was sent to Arkham because he almost attacked her – considering his size, she couldn’t handle him.”

“That lump of clay blew up at her because he was cranked hard enough to break with all of his natural drives subverted to the point of insanity for a sane person, let alone him. Dr. Wilson treated him, decided he needed something constructive to do to build self-worth and set him up as an orderly down here.”

“A mistake, letting a person that susceptible be anywhere near you.”

“Noooo, no. His main flaw was letting him go home to the old bat – pardon the expression – so she could get her claws into him again. Your mistake in this, Batty, is a sadly common one. Labels like ‘old’ and ‘sick’ define conditions; they don’t bestow nobility or ‘innocence’.”

“How do you know she wasn’t a good person to him?”

“Because I asked him – funny how they all miss the simple route. Being crazy doesn’t mean one can’t express oneself. Oh, he tried to defend her, that’s the tragedy of her control over him, but I’m old hat at between-the-lines scrutinizing.”

“If he believes he cares for her, how did you make him want to hurt her?”

“There you go again with ‘want’. He didn’t wanna hurt the crusty cunt; if I’d asked him to, he woulda refused. He needed to help her – to make her well, so she’d keep being his whole world. Keep wrecking him, too, but he wouldn’t see it that way. We had a conversation about magic and he begged me to teach him how to do it, so he could use it to heal her.”

The bat frowned. “Magic?”

Sliding his hand lower past his waistband, Joker cupped his slowly waking cock and winked at him. “It was magical, too.”

The Batman launched at him, the fists raining stone dust on the floor as they struck on either side of his head. Joker didn’t flinch.

“You had him do ... that ... to her?”

“Didn’t they tell you? Or maybe he never got that far? Poor baby; he tried so hard. Did he just take something sharp to her? That was part of it.”

“He cut her back up! Where did you get ‘something sharp’?”

“From the nurse – oh, they took it, don’t worry. It was a gift, Charlie stole it just for me. Mmm, Bats, you’re simply overpowering when you’re angry. How ‘bout a punch, for old time’s sake?”

Leaning in close to his face, the dark eyes glaring into his, the bat’s lip lifted in a snarl. “You can’t bait me.”

“Anyone would agree that I just did, darling. Of course, there isn’t anyone – we’re all alone.”

Lifting one hand, he placed it on the side of the masked face, his thumb rubbing over the bat’s bottom lip.

“You could gimme a little more color and no one would ever know.”

Rearing back away from his touch, one gauntlet grabbed his throat and squeezed. “Don’t lay a hand on me again.”

Choking, he struggled to gasp, to speak.  “Harder ... make ‘em stick this time!”

The hand released him instantly but as he began to back away, the Joker followed and caught his mouth in a rough kiss. It was a moment full of promise – of violence, of lust – and then, with a broken sound, the bat pushed him back into the wall, urgent mouth pressing him, nearly crushing him, beneath its need.

Riding the wave with a laugh hung up in his throat, Joker pushed his tongue into that mouth. After a moment in which he couldn’t breathe, it was met and joined by another – wet, winding, and hungry.

Snaking his hands down between them, he felt the armor with eager searching fingers. He found the indention that had opened the plates before and pressed it, but nothing happened.

Groaning into him, he broke the kiss. Licking the bat’s lips, he fumbled with the catch again, hissing when it wouldn’t open. Guttural and savage, he demanded, “Give it to me!”

“No.”

“Damn your eyes, I’ll have it,” he threatened.

Grabbing one of the gauntlets, he forced it down, manipulating the fingers in his to make one of them press the catch. With a click and slide, it opened.

He reached in and pulled out his prize, only to leave it hanging hard and bobbing. Curling his fingers around the warm scrotal sack snug inside the material, he massaged it, feeling the soft springy hair that dusted it and toying with the vulnerable testicles it protected.

“Stop –”

“You don’t mean that, darling, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

Releasing the balls, he grasped the cock and pumped it twice. Pushing up off of the wall to bump him back a step, Joker twisted to face it, dragging down his waistband at the same time.

Stepping back, he shoved his bared ass at the cock, almost catching its already slick tip between his cheeks.

A count of breaths, three, four – the groin pushed in – but then the body froze. Joker cursed.

“No... I can’t ... I’m not –”

Pushing back, Joker twisted again to face him. The only thing keeping his pants on his hips was his straining erection. “Spare me your motherfucking labels. I need you to fuck me!”

He growled when the bat started to retreat and yanked his dick out. Seizing both of them in one hand, he jacked them hard and rough. The other hand trapped the wrist of the gauntlet in a grip like a vise, not allowing him to escape. Setting his feet apart just to keep the pants mid-thigh, he jerked on the wrist to make the man stumble closer.

The Batman nearly fell to his knees. One forearm striking the wall, pushing Joker back into it, was all that kept him on his boots.

Joker’s grin brushed the other man’s lips as he whispered, “Told you I’d prove it; they never listen.”

“Shut up,” the bat ordered, and blocked his mouth with his tongue.

It was all he could do to keep up working them both in his fist as the mouth forgot they were enemies and began to explore his. When the tongue licked his bottom lip, finding and mapping the hard twist of the scar at its center, Joker shuddered.

He tried to slow his hand, tried to make it last, but their heat demanded more. Increasing his grip, he sucked down the air of the bat’s gasp against his mouth as they rolled haphazardly over the edge.

Thick and hot, their seed spilled from twin founts to mingle over his fingers, splattering and dotting wetly on his pants as it dripped onto the black armor plates.

“Mmm... The way you kiss, Bats. It’s as if you were trying to lick my soul.”

“If only you had one,” the droning voice muttered as he tried to breathe.

Giggling, he whispered, “My little black tattered rag wouldn’t fetch much – only reason I’ve still got it, I suspect.”

Harsh huffing breaths in rapid-fire at his ear threatened to weaken the Joker’s knees.

 _Best to just get down on ‘em, then._ “Back up a tad, precious. I know you have to go, but we’ve made a little mess...”

The bat seemed stunned, so Joker let go of his wrist and pushed at him to make him step back.

Sinking to his knees slowly, he put his tongue to the plates over the thigh. Before he began, he glanced up and caught the man watching him as he leaned most of his weight on the forearm that was still pressed to the wall.

“Mmm, yes ... I do love an audience,” he murmured and licked the plates clean. The taste of the armor’s material was a sharp chemical tang. It was coated, probably Kevlar beneath. “You can’t feel this, can you? Aw, poor starving thing.”

Rising a bit, he licked some of the mess from the underside of the softening cock. The bat grunted in surprise before letting out one of those amazing groans.

“How ‘bout this? Ooooh ... you are delicious.” Another lick, a brief gentle suckling of the head, and he whispered, smiling, “I completely renounce ice cream cones.”

With a hiss, the bat began to move until Joker put the whole thing into his mouth and sucked.

It was too soon for another round, which told him more than the Batman probably wanted him to know.

_Well, he’s not some stripling kid. Sack’s too high and tight for a man in his forties, though – late twenties, early thirties, perhaps._

Both black fists crunched against the stone wall as the bat moaned, his cowled head hanging low between slumped shoulders.

“There, all clean.”

Fingers sliding, touching it as much as he could, the Joker tucked the semi-hard marvel back inside the black cloth. Rucking his orange pants back up, he shoved his cock away sticky and rose, letting his chest rub up the armor on the way.

“What a shame there’s no mirror – we must look like Halloween trying to eat itself.”

Slipping his arms around the bat’s neck, he reached up to hold his head, tilting it up for a kiss.

“Huh. You know, Batty, I think I may have an inch on you – topside, I mean, minus your cute little bat ears. Below the belt, we’re a good matched set. I might curve a tad more.”

Growling, he started to pull away, but Joker held his head, his lips brushing a growing frown.

“Don’t tell me you’re squeamish about tasting yourself? The Batman is a princess? Such a sheltered creature you are. Don’t worry, Lamb Chop, I won’t tell a soul.”

Flicking his tongue out, he licked the frown, teasing it until the mouth relented and let him inside.

Surprised when the thick arms encircled him, he gasped when he was pressed into the stone by the full length of the heavy body.

When he finally got free of the hungry mouth, he giggled. “Tick tock, Bats – unless you wanna try again and shove that thing up my ass, we’re about to linger past the changing of the guard. Can’t say I care if we’re discovered in flagrante delicto, but it’d be a wrecking ball on your reputation, outlaw or not.”

He was released so fast that his head bumped against the wall. A gauntlet lifted, grasped the lower half of his face. Two of the hard fingertips slid across one of his scars, the feel of it making him shiver with newborn lust.

“Not one word – I wasn’t here.”

Smiling stiffly around the hand, he answered, “As long as you’re ‘not here’ again tomorrow night, mum’s the word, Bats.”

As the man turned to close the open plate, Joker giggled again.

“Aw, he’s shy – after all that.” He let the wall hold him up, head turned slightly to one side. Just before the bat struck the door, Joker added with a purr, “I’ll be waaiitiiing.”


	6. Dark Rise

Fall!  
Now the dark begins to rise  
Save your breath, it’s far from over  
Leave the lost and dead behind  
Now’s your chance to run for cover  
I don’t want to change the world,  
I just want to leave it colder  
Light the fuse and burn it up  
Take the path that leads to nowhere

Fall!  
Watch the end through dying eyes  
Now the dark is taking over  
Show me where forever dies  
Take the fall and run to heaven

All is lost again, but I’m not giving in  
I will not bow, I will not break  
I will shove the world away  
I will not fall, I will not fade  
I will take your breath away

And I’ll survive, paranoid  
I have lost the will to change  
And I am not proud, cold blooded fake  
I will shove the world away  
Fall!

~ I Will Not Bow (Breaking Benjamin)

*****************************************************************

“Dr. Tanner said to stop it, freak.”

Joker sighed. “Dwight, is it? You had your fun, didn’t you – not so sorry I broke your finger anymore, hmm? This game is ‘Lady’s Choice’, boys.”

Grinning, enjoying how he shut the goon up, Nurse Alice reached out to pick at and toy with his hair.

“Doctor should’ve washed you again.”

“You like me dirty; it’s the clothes you object to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s not about getting you off; it’s about my fun.”

“Of course it is. Bring your fun within reach, then.”

The Joker laughed with delight when she did, stepping right up to the table next to his hand. It was low, she was tall – with a bit of a stretch and strain, he crooked two fingers and slipped them across her wet flesh, wriggling them back and forth. The labia minora were slightly swollen and he assumed that was the good doctor’s fault.

She arched, thrusting her hips closer. “Get it, damn it,” she muttered, utterly uncaring if she was caught again.

“I’d rather suck it, pretty little cunt like that. Lift the skirt – lemme see it.”

Without hesitation, she grabbed the front of the white skirt and hauled it up to her belt. The third giant moved so he could watch with his buddies, none of them intending to stop him.

“Mmm, yes ... the things I could do to that would be ... criminal. You enjoyed Charlie’s lessons, didn’t you?”

“He didn’t yell enough, for me.”

Joker threatened real injury to his wrist in order to shove the fingers inside her. “Some of my best tricks would make you writhe. Ever been fucked while watching a man get cut up?”

“No...” The word was half moan.

She was easy to peak; with less restricted movements he could have made her come several times with just a hand – or a fist.

Cursing a blue streak when she came, she nearly stumbled away from his glistening fingers. A breath later, the door opened to admit Dr. Tanner, who was neither fooled nor amused.

“Haven’t learned yet, have you?”

“Just priming the pump, Doc – keeping it warm for you.”

“I’m authorizing a new course of treatment – electroconvulsive therapy.” With a thin smile, he clicked the pen he held. “Gentlemen, please take your places. George, if you would bring in the ECT machine.”

Creeping through his veins was a cold dread mingled with a lurid curiosity. Viciously controlling both, he kept his tone even, indifferent.

“So it’s a thiopental and succinylcholine cocktail, is it, with a lightning chaser?”

“No, it is not. You’ve proven you can achieve immunity to a surprising amount and variation of drugs; therefore, I will not be administering an anesthetic or muscle relaxant prior to the treatment.”

Mind racing, Joker fell silent and still, letting his senses draw in all the data possible in the room.

A cart brought in the machine, wires, and electrodes. The nurse’s breathing had gone short and sharp just at the thought of what was about to be done.

Flashes of information gleaned from many sources crowded in. _Widespread pinpoint hemorrhages, scattered cell death – memory loss, adverse cognitive effects..._

Before George wheeled the machine above his head, he caught the word ‘Mecta’ scrawled on it. Straps were tightened and as he opened his mouth to speak, William inserted a thick square of rubber between his teeth.

When the apparatus was in place, the electrodes fixed to both sides of his head, Joker closed his eyes. Muscle by muscle, he strove to force his body to relax, to mime the state of lax haze that the drugs they were skipping should have given him.

Controlling his thoughts was not as simple. Calm was out of reach, so he settled for revenge.

 _Each of you,_ he promised, _will get back a measure of what you do – multiplied by how many blades I have when opportunity knocks._

As a final defense in a defenseless plight, he allowed his mind to sink into the dark depths of the dream the bat had woken him from.

 _Like Sleeping Beauty, hmm?_ he mused, trying to ignore the strange twist of unfamiliar fear in his gut. _Maybe he’ll wake me with a kiss. Maybe I’ll remember who I am..._

As if he knew his patient was attempting to escape him in his own mind, Dr. Tanner began to speak. The voice, as if lecturing his staff, was outside data – the very thing he knew the Joker couldn’t ever stop receiving.

“This is a bilateral electrode placement and we are utilizing sine-wave stimuli to induce a therapeutic clonic seizure. The patient should lose consciousness, with convulsions, for approximately fifteen seconds – longer, if I deem it warranted for his ... benefit.”

The voice of William spoke, fascinated and eager: “What about those drugs he wanted?”

“The use of both anesthesia and muscle relaxants is universally recommended in the administration of ECT, but given this patient’s history, I’ve determined it would be minimally effective at best. This is called an unmodified ECT and it’s exactly what this monster deserves.”

“Are you ready to start?” Alice asked, coming closer for a better look.

“Ready, yes – but first, we must determine his seizure threshold. I’m reasonably sure he’s male, but having no idea of his age, I shall have to try different doses and durations.”

“Can this kill him?” she whispered, lust riding her words.

“Hopefully not – I’m prescribing a full round of treatments and I’d prefer it if he survived to experience all thirteen.”

Sinking, sinking into the blackness, he retreated from the voices. They dimmed, but couldn’t be blocked out. The first current jolted his control, the next shattered it. Denied the ability to scream, he focused on the brutal sound of the guttural moans that escaped his throat.

His hands fisted, but then the fingers of his right hand uncurled just enough to mime holding a blade. Desperate to preserve an abruptly precarious sense of self, he played out depraved acts of mutilation in his thoughts, each image in the mind’s eye chased by stabbing lightning pain.

When his body erupted in convulsions, muscles straining and thrashing against the straps, the blood-drenched fantasies dimmed. For one instant, he stood in the eye of the storm – and in the next, the midnight sun in his mind exploded in fire.

~ ~ ~

Joker snapped awake internally without moving or giving any outward indication of his returned awareness. He had been wet and cold, but cold, at least, had faded. Something, of a rather strangely familiar texture, was wrapped around him. What it was had been a mystery with his eyes closed, until he realized what – or whom – he was sitting on.

The slightest movement brought pain, a wince on his face giving him away. Moving had also told him that he was naked – again.

With a sigh, he muttered, “We simply must stop meeting like this, Bats.”

“Joker! What did they do?”

 _What indeed?_ He saw his fingers, the wrist aching, slipping free of a wet cunt – after that, it all got misty and blurred, leading straight into black. “A session, the nurse ... I ... I don’t know...”

“I’ve read what Dr. Wilson put into your file – how you draw in everything around you, to the point of emotional sensory overload at times; he called it ‘involuntary’. How could you not know?”

“Good question – believe me, precious, I’m vastly more interested in the answer than you are, but still coming up empty.” Looking at the odd black material that was wrapped around his body, he smiled as he recognized the cape. “You care – I’m touched.”

“I found you naked and wet on the floor – no clothes, no blanket. I’ve sent the guard after both.”

“In the meantime, you’ve opted to cuddle? He’s going to wonder if he sees us like this.”

He started to move, to struggle, disliking the feeling of being confined by another body – but the pain that shot through every muscle made him gasp and collapse.

“Be still,” the bat whispered, a strange note of real worry in the voice.

“Let me go, damn it!”

“You’ll catch your death; be still, I said. You’re in pain, worse than just bruises. Where are you injured, do you know? It could be something internal.”

“Broken heart. If I had any idea of where, do you think I’d be an utter blank on how?”

Trying to calm down, he forced himself to sink back into the bat’s awkward embrace. He was lying across his armored lap, his back against the barrel chest. Twisting his torso, hissing at the pain, he laid his head on the chest instead.

“Sitting on a dirty stone floor canoodling with your nemesis. What will all the other heroes think?”

“You really don’t know what happened, do you?”

“No,” he murmured. “Bit upsetting that, don’t mind admitting it.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“Fingering the nurse.” He chuckled when he glanced up and saw the shock in the dark eyes, the frown of the lips, but it didn’t last – it hurt to laugh. “Daily session ... the nurse, the goon trio...” Wincing again, he snuggled into the hard chest plates and stopped trying to sort out how to rise. “Devil below, it all hurts...”

“I should get you out of here, but I can’t. No one at Blackgate Penitentiary would be safe with you there, and I can’t sit on you forever to make you behave.”

“Mmm, too bad – sounds like fun.” The dark fingers brushed at his hair, surprising him. “Petting me, now? Don’t start something I’m too fucked up to join in on, hmm?”

“I’m not petting you – there’s a mark here, at your temple.”

“You’re supposed to kiss me awake – did you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“No ... that’s ... I was thinking that. Like Sleeping Beauty – to wake me... Fuck!” Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he tried not to tremble but couldn’t seem to stop it. “Blank, gone ... nothing. I don’t like that, Batty. Not. One. Bit.” A light knock on the glass made him twitch.

“Open it,” the bat ordered.

“I found clothes, sir – what he should’ve had, and the blanket.”

“Can you find out what happened?”

“I can ask around, pretend I’m after gossip, but Dr. Tanner considers his sessions private ... patient-doctor privilege.”

Joker fell into studying the guard. He knew most of them but this one was newer and had never shouted through the glass to taunt or brag. Tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowed as they stared.

A long pause, the man’s breathing short and uneven – he was nervous. “Does he ... want anything? Like, water? Food?”

“Joker?”

“Water.”

“I’ll be right back.” The door clunked shut.

“I’m gonna recommend this fine establishment to all my friends.”

“Technically, you did, giving me their secrets.”

“Those aren’t friends.”

“Clothes – let’s get you in them.”

“Oh, just roll me in the blanket and put me on the bunk; it all hurts too much for anything else.”

The cape was opened. “Your injuries are worse – those look like strap marks.”

“Force is sexy, but not always. Oogle me later, hmm? It’s cold, yes? Pantomime of the Pieta, Michelangelo would be so proud. You make a dower Virgin Mary and I’ve misplaced my perizoma along with my halo, alas.” He gasped when the bat moved, biting his lip to avoid crying out as he was lifted in his arms. “Gently, please or I may throw up on you.”

The process of replacing cape with blanket and being lowered to the bunk was excruciating.

“Don’t wanna lie down,” he protested. “Can’t drink lying down, only gonna move once, damn it.”

“Just sit still, then. The clothes are folded under the bunk when you want them.”

“Where are you going?” Joker concentrated on breathing until the pain lessened, watching as the bat began to pace.

“I can stay another hour, maybe two.”

“Sit – you’re making me dizzy; besides, I need my leaning post back.”

Batman moved to the door when it was knocked on again and took a paper cup of water from the guard before the door closed. Sitting next to him, he started to hand him the cup. Seeing how the Joker’s hand shook, he held it to his lips instead.

“Drink.”

He drank. It soothed the fire in his throat, but didn’t make his stomach any happier.

“Whatever the hell they did, I resent it; we should be grappling by now, lost in the throes of yummy lust.”

Holding the cup ready, the bat frowned. “That isn’t why I’m here.”

“Bullshit. Why else would you come back?”

“You keep threatening to find ways to harm people if I don’t; since you proved you can in spite of being locked up, here I am.”

“You’re a terrible liar, do you know that?”

“I don’t make a practice of it, but I’m not lying.”

Lifting a trembling hand to his lips, he sneered. “Precious, you tense every time I touch you but you keep letting me touch you. Admit it – you came back looking to get your wick wet.”

“Are you capable of speaking without vulgarities?”

“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”

Joker took the cup from him and downed the rest of the water, ignoring his stomach’s protest. Crushing the cup, he pitched it across the room before turning to face the bat. He stroked his fingertips over those frowning lips, smiling when the man leaned into it just a fraction.

“Kiss me, you broody Pteropus.”

“You’re hurt.”

“So be gentle.” When the bat didn’t move, Joker sighed. “You know, you’re far too ugly to play hard to get – just a bit of friendly advice.”

“Why ... do you want that?”

“Want?” One eyebrow arched up at him.

The frown curled lower. “Why do you need it?”

Joker thought about dissembling but didn’t see the point. “It’s this place – solitary; I’m starving for sensory input and getting a fraction of what the world normally throws at me is hard to get used to. Oh, there was this whole notion of luring you in with carnal temptations, forbidden fruit, all that – but then you turned out to be worth the go and it became a means to its own end, I suppose.”

“Now and then, you make no sense.”

“Nature of the beast. You’re a worthwhile fuck, precious – at least I’m assuming, since you balked last time. Not many worth the bother, truth be told. It’s been a long time, you see – a man gets lonely.”

“Never mind the nurse, the orderly...”

“They don’t count.”

Placing both hands on either side of the bat’s face, he tried to draw him in. The movement opened the blanket, making him shudder. The bat reached to retrieve the edge of it and Joker stole a kiss. He expected the man to pull away but when he didn’t, Joker moved one hand to his armored neck and deepened the kiss.

As it broke, he murmured against the parted lips, “There are many places to hide in this pile of rocks, secure as this cell and worse – if you were serious about moving me out of Dr. Tanner’s clutches.”

“I can’t risk letting you out.”

“You’d let him kill me? He’s aiming to, I can always tell – had enough practice with that look on other mugs. If he does, I’m gonna call it your fault.”

“If he kills you, you’ll blame me? You are crazy.”

Smiling, Joker flicked out his tongue and licked the bat’s lips, nipping at them with his teeth.

“The more people think that, the more I get away with. Mmm, Batty ... wish I was up to rolling over for you.”

That made him pull back. “I’m not ... like that.”

“Your words say ‘no, no’ but your mouth and dick keep saying yesss. So damn stuck on labels. It’s about need, lust – and opportunity, of course. You’re starving, can’t turn to anyone else, I assume; I’m willing and you have opportunity. None of this slaps a label on you, Lamb Chop; it just is.”

~ ~ ~

He tensed at the touch on his shoulder and curled into a tighter fetal ball on the stone floor.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his mind refusing to make sense of the gibberish it was pulling in from brutalized senses.

Time was a pile of stones laid in an intricate pattern that made no sense – because some of the stones were missing.

“Put ‘em back,” he said to no one.

“Joker? Put what back? Can you sit up?”

The hands tried to move him and he screamed, shrill and short. “Stop it. No. No, no, no, I don’t ... can’t... Ssstop it!”

“Hush, I won’t... You’re safe.”

“No, not ... never ... never again...”

The humming voice buzzed with anger but it was turning away from him. “What the hell is going on here? He’s worse than last night!”

“I don’t know –”

“Damn it!”

Air moved, cold on his bare skin. “Don’t.”

“I won’t touch you. Do you know where you are?”

“Stones. Pile of stones. It’s time, but they keep taking ‘em away. Gonna tilt, gonna fall. Fall ... fallfallfaaallll. Stop it!”

“No one is hurting you. Stop ... what?”

“Stop breathing so loud.”

“Joker ... do you know who I am?”

He opened his eyes slowly, peering over the arms he’d flung around his face. A massive shadow crouched beside him. Beyond it, a man in uniform waited, his face a mask of fear. The shadow’s face was a terrifying black mask.

 _Black mask ... Black Mask? No – not this one._ He took a deep breath, let it go. “You’re ... the Batman – ‘scourge of the underworld’ himself. Why are you here?”

The mass of darkness rose, turning on the man. “Out.”

A door shut and the shadow sank to the stone beside him again.

“Joker, listen ... I’ve found Dr. Arkham. He was in Boston and someone shot him – no idea how or why. He knows you’re here now. When he’s released from the hospital up there, he’ll come back. Commissioner Gordon has started the process of legally making Dr. Tanner stop ‘treating’ you. We’ll get him turned over to the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology for a full investigation, too.”

“Time ... no time...”

“It might not be quick, I know.” The man made a noise like a creature growling before it sprang. “Here, lie quiet, but let me cover you up, all right? You’re freezing.”

“Don’t! Don’t touch me... Don’t...”

~ ~ ~

The room was bright and the bat was angry. All of it wore him out. The pain was worse and the gaps in his memory were wider.

He’d watched the shadow move like a wrathful pendulum until sense limped back to his mind enough to recognize the Batman. Over an uncounted span of either minutes or years, he began to remember things – words, acts; the taste of the man’s cum in his mouth. Yet he didn’t know anything in between that and this, not since the morning.

 _Mornings ... how many? No clue. Morning ritual: the goon squad arrives with a gurney and takes me to the treatment room. The treatment ... isn’t in my head anymore._ Cold and weary, he shivered. “Hello, Bats.”

“You’re awake?”

Crooking an eyebrow at him hurt. “Obviously.”

“You know who I am?”

“I think we’ve established that I’ve got no idea who you are, precious. As for what you are, permit me to elaborate. You are an excessively melodramatic weirdo in an armored suit with funny bat ears – did I miss anything? Oh, yes – crime fighting job, moonlighting as my recalcitrant fuck buddy. Blow job buddy, anyway. Devil, I hurt. What the hell?”

“You’ve been out of your head for two nights. This is the first time you’ve sounded either sane – by your standards – or really awake since then. Last night, all you did was scream. Still no memory of what happened, what they’re doing to you?”

“Mecta.”

“What is that?”

“I’ve no idea; it just popped in there. Why do I keep waking up naked in a blanket on the floor? If you aren’t taking advantage of me, which would be a shame, then ... any ideas?”

“They must be pitching you back in here after cleaning you up – you’re usually still wet when I’ve gotten here. It seems they don’t think you need clothes, or any way to keep warm in this icebox. The guard keeps finding the blankets for you.”

“Touching. Odds are they’re hoping I’ll catch pneumonia and keel over; think of all the taxpayer cash they’d save.”

He struggled up into a slouch, hissing at the pain in muscles and joints. The blanket fell to pool around his back and in his lap. Joker drew his knees up beneath it and encircled them loosely with aching arms.

Registering the bat’s stare, he frowned and asked, “What?”

“You’re not... I’m not used to seeing you without ... something on your face.”

Wilting, Joker let his forehead drop to his knees. The posture hurt his ribs and neck, but he didn’t care. “Don’t suppose you’d return the favor? Fair’s fair, right?”

“Wrong. You’ve never tried to find out who I am, in spite of your complaints about identities; why start now?”

“That you know of. Ask your lapdog.” Sighing, he slumped farther into himself, hiding his naked face. “I guess I don’t care – knowing would take all the mystery outta our relationship, after all.”

“You remember ... those things ... now?”

“‘Those things’?” he repeated, mocking his reluctant tone. Joker raised his head just enough to lift a hard stare up at the bat. “Thiiings ... like licking your cock? Sucking the taste outta your mouth? Vividly. The rest, not so much.”

Typically, he sidestepped the crude words, ignoring them. At least he had the guts to return the stare.

“I will figure this mess out – find a way to stop them from doing this to you.”

Shaking his head, Joker let it sink down onto his knees again. “Just find Dr. Arkham – that’s all I need. He ... knows me.”

“I did find him; you were out of your head before when I tried to tell you. He was shot in Boston; Commissioner Gordon said he claimed he was mugged. It’ll be a week or so before he can return to his practice here.”

“At this rate, in a week or so ... I’ll be dead.”

~ ~ ~

A long moan tore its way out of his throat. Thoughts spinning, melting, he panted – desperate to get free. “Run ... can’t run, can’t stop...” Something held him down and it hurt. Struggling, shocked that he could scream, he howled until he choked. “Voices, breathing, voices, breathing – they won’t stop! Stop, ssstop, stop!”

The voice, the hum over his head: “Damn it, get the nurse, now!” Metal clang, rhythmic steps, fast, receding. “Joker? Listen to me, it’s over – no one is hurting you now.”

“Stop,” he whispered, “make it stop.”

“It’s stopped, it’s over. What was it? Can you remember? Try...”

“Mecta...”

Metal again, and then there were three.

“You!” The voice was female, shocked and afraid.

“Helen, he’s here to try and help the patient. Can you help us with him?”

“Why do you care about him?”

Writhing, struggling, he tried to bite, but something hard held his head back.

“A human with rights is being harmed, tortured somehow, by your Dr. Tanner; that’s why I care. What do you know and can you help at all?”

“That’s dayshift and Dr. Tanner doesn’t share information about anything. I’m only here at night for medical emergencies.”

Giving up on biting, he began to thrash. The pain choked him but he ignored it. Sucking in a ragged breath, he screamed again.

“This qualifies, damn it!”

“Do you want me to sedate him?”

“He’s going to hurt himself. Yes! Do it!”

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m getting him out of here.”

“Sir, no, you can’t! He’s a psychotic killer –”

“I know that! It’ll be days to a week before we can force that monster to stop legally – he knows we’re trying, so he’s working to kill him before we succeed.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do.” The female had returned. Her voice was cold, without the endless hunger of the other one – the one who liked to watch.

“Give that to him first – what is it?”

“A tranquilizer.”

The dry-hot feel of alcohol on skin drove him wild. Whipping and thrashing, he screamed when hard fingers forced him to be still. The feel of a needle, push of the poison...

“No! Fucking cunt! I’ll cut you – kill you! Deaddeaddead!” Excruciating pain assaulted him, everywhere, and then the taste of blood burst in his mouth.

“My God!”

“It should act fast, just hold him still!”

Creeping in burning veins, it stole what was left. Siren song, it called up the breathing dark only to dash it on the rocks.

 _Rocks ... stones ... missing..._ “Give ‘em back,” he whispered, swallowing blood and choking on it. “Give ‘em ... back...”

It all began to dim, but the voices sifted through the growing dark, settling on the sightless bottom of his mind.

“He’s bleeding!”

“It’s nothing, he’s only bitten his tongue.”

“Talk. Where can I take him? I want him safe from Dr. Tanner. Dr. Arkham is coming back to take over his case, but I have to get him away from that monster now!”

“I know a place, down in the catacombs.”

“Catacombs?”

“Sounds bad ... is bad – but it’s a place the founder, the original Dr. Arkham, built for special patients they couldn’t easily control. It makes this wing look like Disneyland. I’ll take you there and bring supplies.”

“That doesn’t sound exactly safe – for him.”

“If you have the key to it, no one else can get in; he certainly won’t be able to get out.”

“Where is the key?”

“Down there, hidden – but I know where. The current Dr. Arkham had me assist him with a patient there last year, when the assigned nurse was killed.”

“Why are you so willing to do this?”

The humming voice had turned harder. It was the voice that held him ... not the straps, not the wires.

“The Joker is the most dangerous psychopath I know and he’s already got it in for me. Let’s just say I’ve decided to change his mind. Between him and Dr. Tanner, I could run far enough to get away from the doctor. Besides, if Dr. Arkham is coming back, he’ll want to help him – and he can deal with Dr. Tanner just fine, too, trust me. He’s done a poor job of running this place in the director’s absence and disciplinary action around here is ... harsh.”

“Wires ... burning...”

“Joker? Are you remembering something?”

“He’s gone, will be for a few hours.”

“He kept saying ‘Mecta’ before. What does that mean?”

A gasp of breath. “That’s what he’s doing to him.”

Growling, the voice answered, “What? Tell me!”

“Electroshock – they call it Electroconvulsive Therapy, now. Mecta is one of the manufacturers of the ECT machines. Dr. Tanner must be giving him shock treatments.”

The cold dropped and he shuddered. The voice that held him thrummed, hurting him as it tightened, like wires. “He’s going to regret that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Created in marble by Michelangelo (1475-1564), the Pieta depicts the Virgin Mary holding her son, Jesus Christ, in her arms. A perizoma is the linen cloth wrap Jesus is wearing. A Pteropus is a type of very large bat. Thanks for reading and commenting! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	7. Drowning

Love is gone  
My TV’s on  
I’m hanging with the boys  
A life with fools  
this world is cruel  
We never dispense with toys  
Could you make a suggestion  
for an act I would enjoy

And I’m drowning  
So come inside  
Welcome to my filthy mind

My fingers are burnt  
Forgot what I learnt  
I’ll never be a satisfied  
Become a recluse  
Enjoy the abuse  
It’s better to just get high  
Now I feel like a baby  
who has just opened its eyes

And I’m drowning  
so come inside  
Welcome to my filthy mind  
My filthy mind  
Now I feel like a baby  
who has just opened its eyes

And I’m drowning  
so come inside  
Welcome to my filthy mind

~ Filthy Mind (Amanda Ghost)

*****************************************************************

Warmth … and a cold hardness – close. He shifted, moaned. Fingers touched ... but didn’t offer harm. Brushing over his brow, ghosting over lips, and then a mouth replaced them. It was soft, giving comfort more than taking it.

Turning into it, his lips parted and the mouth pressed in, the tongue smooth and easy, twining against his.

When it left him, he shook his head, another low moan in his throat. The mouth descended, lips feathering over his. Pain came when he shifted to accept the tongue again and a small cry escaped his lips.

“Shh ... you’re safe now.” The voice was soft and hummed beneath the words. “I won’t leave you ... until you’re ... better.”

Fighting to speak through the clay in his mouth, he muttered, “Need ... need it.” He found the fingers and moved them, used them to cover it. They were cold, hard, and his body hardened beneath them.

“You’ve been ill, you should rest.”

“No...” It was crushing, the weight of trying to make a connection – to be heard. “Need it...”

Lifting his head to catch the mouth, he groaned into it when the fingers grasped his hungry flesh. Artless and awkward, but with a strength that could easily bruise, injure … the cold hardness worked the other with a tireless grip.

Gasping, he threw his head back, his mouth open wide. Time slanted, stretched, until the heat made him cry out, raw throat aching. Reflexively, he reached down and caught it when it spouted, warm and slick.

It was agony to turn again, to roll away so that his fingers could smear the slick where it was needed. As they rubbed it in, he hissed in pain.

“What are you ... no... I’d hurt you.”

Turning his head, he licked his wounded lips. “Give me ... what I need.”

The mouth covered his and he knew, somehow, that was the key. Driving the kiss into a desperation of imprisoned feeling, he worked it to the point of breathless and beyond. Breaking it, licking whole and smooth lips, he turned his face away from their need to offer his body.

“I don’t know how ... to do this...”

Wincing in pain, he grasped the fingers, slid to the hard wrist and tried to pull the other body over him. “Not sure I’m ... even alive... Show me, show me ... that I am.”

Silence, stillness … and then a heavy weight moved, a small sound clicked. “Oh God... I don’t want to injure you – you’re really hurt, what they did...”

“It will hurt, it will; that’s what ... I need.”

He fell still until the weight moved over him, settled between his opening legs. Moving them was agony.

Smooth lips on his bare shoulder, soothing. Then the fingers pried him open, unsure and seeking, unwilling but wanting just the same. They held him ready. With a shift of weight, what he needed descended.

Thick and hard, it nudged, well able to force, to take – yet it was slow and trying to be gentle. Twice, it almost stopped, withdrew, left him. The third time, desperation broke him, alien tears gathering, sliding – breath sharp.

“Please,” he whispered, the need twisting his guts.

When it pushed in, the weight above moving his whole body, he screamed. Grabbing the wrist, he stopped the weight from falling away.

“Don’t ... I need it; muscles hurt, can’t help it. Do it ... do it...”

With a hiss, it pushed again. Prepared for it, he controlled himself better, teeth slicing into his arm to mute the cries. Again, slow, hard – and again.

“Damn it,” the voice cursed, more fear than anger, and then pleasure began. “I ... ooh...”

Trying to be still, forcing his body to simply accept the invasion of flesh in flesh, he growled, tasting blood.

“You’re hurting yourself,” the voice warned, alarmed. A hand moved to his mouth, pressing to make him let go. When he did, two fingers slipped in, allowed his teeth to grip them hard.

Moaning, ignoring the pain, he pushed up on his arms, lifted his hips. The weight moved slightly to allow it, thrusts faltering for a beat. Pushing back, he speared himself on it, forcing it deeper than it had dared to go before.

A strangled noise over him intensified his lust. Huffing breaths around the fingers in his mouth, he bit down on them as he was abruptly stretched and filled. Body on fire, sweat running down his face, arms, and back, he began to writhe with each thrust. The strength there was endless but the act would be quick – it was too sharp, burned too hot, to be drawn out for long.

The sounds over his head again, rough and low, doubled both his pleasure and pain as the thrusts turned urgent. Three final strokes and the hard flesh shuddered deep inside, spilling, stilling.

Breathing ragged, he released the fingers and they disappeared. When the weight moved, the softening flesh sliding free, he bit his lip to keep quiet. The padded surface beneath sank slightly as the heavy body settled at his side again. Hissing at the pain in sated flesh, he turned away from it, laying his head down with eyes still closed.

“Joker? Are you all right?” A hand on his back, hesitant, guilty – settled and stroked, trying to soothe.

“The dark – it’s with us, it ... breathes.”

“Sleep now, you have to rest. God help me, that wasn’t what you needed.”

Lips stretching in a thin hidden smile, he let oblivion, dark and pure, creep over his fractured mind.

~ ~ ~

Joker woke in pain but it was a dull ache as long as he was still. Some of it was in sweet places, too, a fact that made him smirk before the night fully crept back into his awareness.

He knew he was alone where he lay, warm on his belly, but someone conflicted and fretting paced the stone floor beyond. Encouraged by that watchful presence, he dared to open his eyes.

A dim light at his feet, its source a short distance away, gave the round room a gloomy aspect. The place might have terrified anyone else, with or without the stalking giant bat, but to him it was a stroke of fortune.

“Huh. I wasn’t dreaming all of it – it is dark.”

“Joker...”

Swift and concerned, the bat knelt on one knee beside what turned out to be a real bed. It was wide, if old. The mattress had been there a while, but the sheets and blankets were relatively clean – despite a faint lingering smell of sex.

“Gonna propose to me?”

“You’re back – you’re ... making sense. Talking nonsense, but talking is a start.”

Sighing as all of his aches crowded in with the movement, he reached out one hand and touched the bat’s bottom lip. “Come back to bed, hmm? Don’t wanna be alone down here.”

“You’re in –”

“The Citadel, I know – been a guest here before.” Moving his hand to the shoulder, he grasped a fistful of cape. “Bed, back to, come – keep me waaarmm.”

“Not the best idea ever.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, precious – you did fine.”

“You know? I thought you were...”

“Outta my head? Was. Waking now, I have a limp dick and a loose ass – sure sign of a good time.”

“It’s almost dawn; I have to leave.”

“Why? Don’t bats sleep in caves during the day? Hang from the rafters if you like but you only wanna go because you’re trying not to deal with the fact that you finally fucked me. Guilt, shame, whatever you’re in deep, it’s a waste of time. A better use of time is getting back in this bed, sleeping most of the day away, and then fucking me again before you have to go to work.”

“No. Not possible. The nurse will be here, Helen – she’s going to bring you meals and pain meds if you want them.”

“Helen hates my pink and twisted guts … and she’s nightshift, too.”

“She’s helping so you’ll change your mind about wanting to kill her.”

“Innterresting.”

“I believe she’s sincere.”

“Infallible judge of character, hmm?”

“I’ll come back after midnight to check on you – or as soon as I can.”

“Busy, busy – at least lemme suck you off first, in return for the rescue.”

“Rest, recuperate... I’ll see you tonight.”

Wincing, he struggled to prop himself up on an elbow. “Am I locked in?”

“Of course – you’re safe from Dr. Tanner and the world is safe from you.”

“You’re not safe from me.”

“Good night, Joker.”

Sighing, he flopped to his back and then cursed when it hurt. “Good day, Batty.” Before he left the holding cell to enter the lighted foyer, Joker added, “Definitely a worthwhile fuck, Lamb Chop.”

The bat didn’t reply as he closed and secured the cell door, leaving him in delicious darkness.

In the distance, from within the foyer, the main exit door creaked open. A medieval metal thing with a fancy key, it must have gone a long way to reassure the bat of everyone’s collective security.

After it closed and locked, he whispered, “Alone at last.”

~ ~ ~

At first, he lay still for a few hours and honestly rested, though he didn’t sleep. He was too busy pulling in every sound and smell around him. The lights were controlled in the small office adjacent to the staff quarters but for now, he was grateful for the darkness.

All that bright light in solitary had been obnoxious – a form of torture in itself – but mostly it was for the surveillance camera. The Citadel had them too, in every room, but they were rarely used that he knew of.

_Back in the day, when Uncle Arkham built this little playground for the insane, remodeling his family home, the Citadel had been something to fear._

The new Dr. Arkham had found little use for it until the last few years but his methods of dealing with difficult and dangerous patients differed vastly from his uncle’s good intentions.

_Never mind that old Uncle Arkham went completely sack-o-hammers himself, eventually._

Rolling back onto his stomach carefully, Joker buried his face in the rumpled sheets, breathing in the slight scent of the bat. It was the coating on the armor that he smelled the strongest and he had to sift through that to find the whiffs of clean skin and the tang of metal.

_No cologne traces around the face, no tobacco – the cowl and armor hide everything else._

Abruptly realizing the odd creature had laid beside him in full kit, boots, utility belt, cape and all, probably for hours, made him giggle.

 _So now I have to add ‘armor fetish’ to my list. All right, okay – now what?_ A frown settled over the carved planes of his bare face. _Time to rattle the cage and get what I need._

Joker struggled to his feet with caution, blankets falling away from his body. The room was cold, but nothing like the solitary wing above.

He’d already begun to pull the Citadel’s layout from his mind when the simple act of using his gift of photographic memory twisted his thoughts into a phantom pain of loss. For one breathless moment, he wondered if the cramps of the mind would pull his body down, make it sick.

_Gaps still there. Batman stopped asking me inane ‘what happened’ questions, so does he know?_

Growling in frozen rage at a loss he couldn’t properly articulate, he yanked the remembered layout over his mind’s eye and walked to the door toward the foot of the bed as confidently as a man who had light to see the way.

_‘Helping so I won’t kill her’, is she? We shall see about that._

Raising a fist, he knocked on the metal door, listening to the echoes it made. Three short, sharp knocks – it was a summons disguised as a request. Counting breaths, he got to twenty-seven before the nurse opened the viewing slot over the narrow window. That meant she came from the staff quarters.

“Good morning, Helen.”

“Nice to see you on your feet; how do you feel? Need something?”

“Nice? I suppose it is. Clothes, drugs, food – in that order; my freedom for dessert.”

“I can’t open this door until Dr. Arkham gets here, you know that. Your ‘friend’ took the keys.”

“So he did. Fine then, nick the freedom; I’ll have the rest.”

“Drugs – for pain?”

“No, for a sniffle. I’ve already spent a big part of the last hour sorting out how to thank you for bringing me to Dr. Tanner’s attention; he was happy to plow Nurse Alice and ignore me for the most part – ‘til you left your clever little note.”

“You’d still be there if not for me.”

“That’s the bat’s line, try again.”

“I told him about this place; I brought him here, showed him the keys.”

“If he wanted to scarper with me, he woulda found a place.”

“Not like this.” She met his gaze without flinching, holding her ground.

“Dr. Arkham never gave you the code?”

“No, just showed me the keys. I have to use the dumb waiter to get anything down here while that caped freak is gone.”

“Oh, I see – you’re locked in. Ha-haha. Yes, I like it.” Running his fingertips down the glass, he tilted his head and gave her a crooked grin. “Our dance will have to wait, then. For now, I’m undecided ‘bout you, sweet pea – but that won’t last.”

She didn’t waver, knowing it was stupid to show fear. “We can have anything the kitchens can make for the staff. I suggest something light at first, soup and bread; you haven’t eaten much at one sitting in weeks.”

“Amuse yourself – just be certain it isn’t laced. I want my meds in pill form, thank you. Something with kick, that will let me function without this wretched wearying pain.”

“I’ll be right back, with clothes first. They’ll only send down prisoner scrubs without Dr. Arkham’s approval, you realize.”

“What I realize is that you aren’t telling me what Dr. Tanner did to me. You winced when I mentioned pain but since you have no empathy for the likes of me, I’m gonna guess that you know all about it and it gives you the willies. Share?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Shock treatments. You kept saying the word ‘Mecta’ to Batman; that’s the manufacturer of the ECT machine in solitary. Your symptoms fit. Judging by the bruises, he likely skipped doping you properly first. That’s all I know. If I hear more, I’ll tell you.”

“See? I knew you were a smart little thing. Clothes, drugs, food – off you go.”

When she left, she didn’t close the cover on the glass. Through it, he could see the lit foyer, circular like all of the rooms, with its collection of doors. The third door from his was the spacious office used by the director and the fourth was the staff quarters.

She disappeared into the fourth door. Behind it was a smaller office, like a nurse’s station, and a tiny bedroom for a night nurse. The little office held part of the pharmaceutical collection, with the lion’s share under lock and key in the director’s office.

_Closer to me are the treatment and observation rooms, doors one and two, respectively. Yet the doors one can see aren’t the ones I care about. The doors one can’t see – those are the portals of fun and mayhem. Ah, sweet flying rodent – you’ve outdone yourself, precious. If you’ll hold still tonight, I’ll thank you properly._

He knew how he hoped to proceed with the Batman’s carnal education but the fate of the others would require some thought.

Returning to lie still again on the bed, he began to categorize the damage done to his mind the best that he could, now that the mystery of how he’d been knocked so low had been answered.

_As for Dr. Tanner – I simply must find a suitable way to repay him. From down here, mmmm, so many choices._

~ ~ ~

After accepting the nurse’s offer of a sleep aid with the pain meds, convinced that she couldn’t enter the cell, Joker spent most of the day post-breakfast comatose and resting – just what the bat ordered.

As if the horrid events upstairs had never dulled his senses, he woke as sunset began. Imagining Gotham’s skyline in his head, he painted it with slowly muting bright colors and watched internally as they slid into night.

Nurse Helen rapped at the door to ask if he wanted supper, shunting the tray through with her pre-selected fare for a recovering starving invalid. He had to admit that regular food was far better than the slop Dr. Tanner had insisted on, even if her choice of soups and stews resembled that description.

“Leave it,” he replied, and slowly sat up. “A bit of light wouldn’t hurt, sweet pea – just enough for a gloomy atmosphere, hmm?”

Rolling or rotating various joints to test them, he flexed a few muscle groups as well. The pain had been buried under pills but it was sleep that would bring him back to top condition. Without Dr. Tanner’s sessions pulling him apart at the seams on a daily basis, he could crawl back to peak shape in no time.

He rose as carefully as he had that morning and went to fetch the tray out of the slot, carrying it back to the bed to eat and think. By the time he sat down with it, the darkness had been chased back to a perfectly vague gloom.

Fantasies of revenge that had begun in sleep formed and popped in his thoughts in rapid fire as he returned to assessing the damage to his mind. Now and then, striking a point where the weave of memories was disrupted, anger would bloom to fill that gap.

To calm himself, he changed gears and indulged in sweet reminiscence: the birth of his masterpiece, Two-Face.

_Once, I told Harvey Dent that chaos is fair and when his lucky coin proved it, he slid into that sublime truth, didn’t even question it, no matter all the long years of dedication to a useless and narrow interpretation of justice. Mere moments was all it took  – ah, to be so raw and malleable in the face of mind-shattering grief. How curious it is, to ... care ... so much for another useless pile of talking meat that you allow their loss to destroy and remake everything that you are?_

The fact that Dent had had help in the remaking only made the Joker smile.

_Still, my dedication to random mayhem has only one shining purpose: to smash the schemes of others and give chaos ascendance. Most of ‘em will never know the purity of soul that comes from living without dreams and schemes – bet I sleep better than all of ‘em, too ... when I take the time to bother. My only insomnia problem is that I don’t wanna miss any fun. So ... how to begin having fun again? Bats is an entertaining distraction but he’s never been the main event; he enriches the threads of the weave – but the loom is bigger than either of us._

He rose to deposit the tray and push the slot back through, and discovered that some of his strength had returned.

Stretching slowly in the fresh orange cotton shirt and pants, he stepped into the simple thin white shoes of a patient of Arkham Asylum and began to familiarize himself once more with his unique surroundings. He didn’t expect much to be different, but one never knew.

Counting off the steps that measured the room was a habit he was unlikely to shed, so he paid it no mind. He explored the holding cell, its meager and bolted down metal furnishings, and its small alcove for lavatory and shower, without really categorizing that data right away. His fingers were too busy touching walls, remembering which hid the tunnels and where each one could lead him.

_Fun, yes, must get back to the big picture – but first, I owe a few friends here a parting gift, to thank ‘em for all they’ve done for me. That, of course, can be even more fun. Sometimes it’s nice to cut people without fretting over how what’s left of ‘em will fit into that big picture._

At the sink, he turned on a push-button faucet just to see if it would work. Cupping a palm under the freezing water, he drank it from his hand.

_Still brackish – they must not have gotten the budget sorted out to fix the potable water quality. Either that or the good Dr. Arkham found better uses for those funds. A week yet to go before he arrives?_

Frowning, he turned and headed back to the bolted table and chair. Sitting on the chair, he bent over the small table and set his chin on folded hands.

_Only one exit is usable ‘til he gives me the new code for the rest and that won’t get me out from under this pile of stones. It’ll get me back up to the solitary wing, though – convenient. Question is, did he keep his promise to not change that passcode?_

Joker thought about trying it now but rejected the idea. There was little point in risking it at dusk, in case the bat’s growing hunger led him back sooner than later.

_Ah, Bats – what to do about you? Can’t hand out my thank-yous as easily from the outside but can’t let you find out the secrets of this little rescue nook, either. A careful dance, then. In the meantime, I’ll be pleased to dirty your soul as far as I can._

Squirming slightly in the cold chair, he called up the feeling of his thrusts deep within.

_Mmm, my my ... how to get you to repeat that? It’d be a shame to use the same trick twice but one does what one can to get by._

As night took hold and grew late, he facilitated matters by leaving the clothes draped over the solid pipe of the bed’s footboard. Kicking the thin shoes off next to it, he sank onto the bed under blanket and sheet and settled on his back to await his daring and conflicted rescuer.

When sleep tapped at the edge of his thoughts, he let it in and drifted away, knowing oblivion would speed the arrival of the bat.

~ ~ ~

He was surprised out of a deep sleep by the grip of a gauntlet on his shoulder. The lights in the room, hidden within the edge of the round ceiling, glowed just enough to throw the meager furniture into deep shadows. The light made an amusing halo effect around the bat ears, too and it took some effort not to laugh.

“You don’t talk in your sleep, don’t snore, and barely seem to breathe.”

“Aw, precious – were you startled, thought I’d slipped loose my mortal coil?”

“Something like that. Stop calling me ‘precious’.”

“Gimme a name to use and I’ll drop the pet names. Larry? Ralph? No, no, that jaw is too chiseled for a Ralph. Tom, Dick, Harry? Am I warm or cold?”

The bat sat beside him on the edge of the creaking mattress. “I’ll trade for your real name.”

“Ah, ah, ah – now see? You don’t play fair,” he admonished, wagging a finger.

“I don’t play.”

“Beg to differ, sugarlips.” Smiling, he reached up to the edge of the cowl. “Still, while you’re getting an eyeful of my unadorned face, I should at least get a peek...”

The bat grabbed his wrists and held them away from his neck.

“What did I say? Don’t play fair at allll.”

“It’ll shock you if you try to take it off. You know that already.”

“Oh, well, yes – had enough of that, haven’t I?” Pouting, he glared up at him. “Take something off then, hmm? You’re making me feel underdressed.”

“You aren’t dressed at all.”

“Just for you. May I have my hands back?” Joker grinned when he paused before releasing him.

“The nurse told you what they did.”

“Uh-hmm, yes,” he said, rubbing his wrists. “She’s desperate to please.”

“I don’t want you to hurt her, understand? You need her.”

“Me? Hurt dear Helen?” Sighing at the glare, he added, “Oh, very well – for you. Again. I do so much for you. So ... what are you gonna do for me in return?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Randy.”

“Joker...” The gauntlets tightened into fists.

“Still guessing names, it is fun. My, but you’re in a mood. Bad day – er, night?” Smirking at him, he winked. “What on earth do you do all day, anyhow? Don’t tell me ‘chittering upside down in a cave’, either, I won’t buy it.”

An alien smile stretched the normally frowning lips. “I’m a janitor in a city park.”

Beaming at him, Joker grinned. “There, see? You can lie just fine.”

“You sound better.”

The grin snapped off his face like turning off a light. “I may sound better, precious, but there are holes in my memory you could throw a rat through. I keep worrying the ragged edges of the missing pieces, but nothing...”

He started to roll away from him but one of the black gloved hands pressed down on his chest. “We will deal with him; he’ll answer for what he did to you.”

One eyebrow arched as his lips fell into a dark frown. “Yes ... he will.”

“Let the law handle it.”

Startled, Joker laughed outright. “The law, Batty? Who in hell do you think you’re chatting with?”

“It doesn’t matter; you’ll be in Arkham for a lot longer than it’ll take to lock him up somewhere else.”

“Oh, sure, now that you’ve had me ensconced in the worst hole here.”

“Happy to ruin your escape plans.”

“Aww, well ... wouldn’t wanna go anywhere while you’ve taken to regular visits, conjugal or not.”

The bat shifted, grew uncomfortable. “Now that you’re safe, once Dr. Arkham gets here – I won’t be back.”

“I see.”

“You don’t seem too upset.”

Laughing again, Joker steepled his fingers together, bumping the forefingers against his lips. “Should I be? We aren’t exactly star-crossed lovers, hmm? So this odd little ‘match made in hell’ tryst has a week-long shelf life, give or take. I’ll just have to find another playmate when you leave, that’s all.”

Dark eyes narrowing, the bat frowned. “I shouldn’t trust you.”

“No,” Joker responded, meeting his glare with a cool expression, “you shouldn’t.”

Thick arms crossing over the barrel chest, he glowered down at the Joker. “I’ve just rescued the man who killed the woman I loved and destroyed the most decent champion for justice Gotham ever had – nearly annihilating Gotham in the process.”

“Gonna make me blush if we hold hands down memory lane, Bats. Reminiscence of my finest works aside, what’s your point?”

The stiff shoulders fell just a fraction. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I do. Would you like to?”

“Your twisted version?”

“No, the truth.” When he remained silent, Joker continued. “You changed the world, as I said, no going back to the halcyon days like the mob bosses wanted. Here’s the trick, Batty – you aren’t the only one who can change worlds. I stirred that pot right after you did, added some new spice and twists – namely Two-Face. He knocked a few dominoes over from all of our patiently lined up rows and, ta-dah! A brand new Gotham rose from the ashes ... again. You ended up taking a moral fall to protect the city from Two-Face and his truth, but then he popped up out of that pat little hole you tried to hide him in anyway, just like a jack-in-the-box.”

“Largely your fault.”

“Some of it... I didn’t turn dear little jack’s handle, though – couldn’t reach it in here. As for what you’re doing now...”

He rose and propped himself on one elbow, his other hand reaching for the bat’s tucked wrist. Prying it out with a satisfying play of semi-resistance met with fledgling strength, he pressed the back of the hand over his scarred cheek.

“You’re drowning in a backwash of every harsh reality you’ve endured since your little, uh, manufactured fall from grace. Denying yourself ... every comfort.” Moving the hand, he kissed the tips of the gauntlet’s fingers. “You cut yourself off, made yourself touch hungry – made your body crave ... any kind of sensation...”

Slipping three thick fingers into his mouth, he sucked them, sliding them in and out as he watched the heated lust come into those dark eyes.

Once again kissing the tips, he added, “Me, I’m just a liiittle lonely – and I can’t say I’ve ever had really high standards on whom I bed.”

“This isn’t going to happen again.”

“Too late – it’s already started.”

“No.”

“It’s so cute when you say that; you try so hard. Got your number last night, Bats: you loved every minute of it. No amount of guilt, shame, remorse – all useless, by the way – can change the eager lust I’ve already sparked, or stop the craving ... to shove inside me again.”

The Batman’s lips twisted into a cruel smile as he pulled his hand free, shaking it once as if he needed to wash it.

“I have no idea where you’ve been.”

“You know where I’ve been since your maiden voyage. Bit late to worry ‘bout that sorta thing now, isn’t it? When you’ve already pitched the baby out with the bath water, what good does it do to wonder if he got clean first? Anyhow, you wouldn’t be here at all if you weren’t in the mood to flirt a little with death.”

Sitting up, he ran his palms over brilliantly bruised skin.

“We could always call the nurse, tell her you’d like to wrap that willy – of course, you’d have to unlock everything and let her out to play fetch; the Citadel isn’t stocked for safe sex.”

Rising before the Joker could touch him again, he ground out, “I said no.”

“Amazing, wasn’t it? How that tight little ring of muscle straannngled your cock? Melted your brain, didn’t it? Tell me, Batty – did sweet, beautiful Rachel ever give you her perfectly white pouting ass to fuck?”

“Don’t do this.”

“What – make you hit me? What is it about me that makes you think I can’t take it? She might have bent over for Harvey; she seemed quite taken with him. I wonder if he’d disgust her now. Personally, I’d love to pull his tongue through the hole in his face and suck it – but Rachel probably wouldn’t have done that anymore than she woulda gotten on her knees and stuffed your dick down her throat... Or let you work the core outta that juicy apple bottom, hmm?”

“Stop. Stop saying her name. You don’t ... deserve ... to say her name.”

“Fine, fine, but it’s confession time, Bats – did the little lawyer cunt give you any hole you asked for, any time? Or was that Harvey’s piece of action after she traded up?”

He was already laughing when the punch smashed into his stomach, knocking him back across the bed. Two more body blows landed as the bat followed him down; the last one, right across one of the strap marks, made him cry out.

Joker was ready for more but the cry had jolted his enemy out of mindless cruelty. He was crouched between the Joker’s splayed legs, fists poised and lips peeled back in a snarl.

Lifting his knees to frame the creature, he whispered, “It’s right there, waiting ... and all yours. Come on, Bats – wipe the grin off my face with a hard, dirty fuck.”

Joker laughed again when he fell over him, ignoring the pain of the armor pressing down into his bruises. The bat was so mad for it, he began to rut with the plates still closed.

Lips at his cheek, Joker whispered, “Slip a finger down there and let that thing out, hmm? Can’t play without it.”

One of the bat’s hands disappeared to free himself and then the shock of a finger pushed inside, making the Joker buck once, gasping at the rough invasion.

The humming voice was low and heavy with lust. “You need ... something to ease it.”

Clinging to him, trying to make him stab that finger deeper, Joker panted. “Humph – telling me what I need now... Use some spit, precious, I don’t care – just fuck me! Spent all damn day with the phantom of your dick in my ass!”

“Roll over.”

“No. No no no. This way – I wanna see your face when you blow!”

Watching the Batman spit on his gloved fingers to stuff and smear it nearly made the Joker come, more than the feeling of him actually doing it. In the instant that the cock punched inside and began a rough, pounding handful of thrusts, the overload between pain and pleasure kicked him dangerously close to the edge again.

“Oooh, yes, do it – slam it, darling. I wanna be leaking for days!”

He would have laughed when the dark hand came down, but it covered his throat and squeezed, cutting off his air.

The creeping threat of asphyxiation charged his body with a stunning lust. Added to the mix was the thrilling question: just how close would the bat come to breaking his one rule?

His face flushed hot as the combined pressures of a need for carnal release and oxygen almost drove him outside the borders of his mind.

Unable to cry out when he came, he slapped his hand flat over the spurted mess on his abdomen and smeared it upward seconds before the blackness gathered, dimming both senses and awareness.

The last thing he felt before he passed out was the brutal final shove and shudder of his enemy’s cock, buried to the balls inside him and the bruising pain of the armor as the open edges of it were pressed into his skin.

~ ~ ~

Joker slowly came back to himself, aware first of all that a pair of the bat’s fingers were still pressed to the pulse in his throat. The large black mass of him was stretched out at his side, far too close for comfort.

Eyes closed, he muttered, “It’d be nice to wake, just once, without you plastered to me one way or another.”

“I was afraid I’d killed you – your pulse is so faint... I think I almost did.”

“We’ve had a discussion ‘bout assumptions – my pulse is rarely all wound up, regardless of what – or whom – I’m doing.”

Removing the fingers, he rose and rolled until he’d laid himself out on top of his bedmate. For the ugly fun of it, he made sure his cock struck and then lay alongside the bat’s, enjoying the grunt and wince it won him. The fact that he hadn’t locked it away set him giggling with delight.

With some effort, Joker quieted. He leaned his forearms over the winged symbol on the chest and smirked as he stared into dark and troubled eyes. Leaning down, he licked the firm thin line of lips, the tip of his tongue teasing them until they parted.

He took his time, keeping the kiss slow and simple – almost lazy. When he broke it, he set his chin on folded hands and returned to staring into those eyes before they closed to escape him.

“Why can’t I stop?” he whispered, the hum of the low voice muted.

“First you think want, the sire of ambition, is a brutal task master; then you stumble into letting need make you it’s bitch and find out what ‘hell on earth’ really means.”

“I thought you were all for need; you keep correcting me on it.”

“I am, sure – I’ve mastered mine; neither of ‘em rule me anymore. Big difference, precious.”

“How do you master them?”

“Think I’ll give away hard-earned secrets for free? I’ll tell you this ... you’ve already taken the first step; you gave in to ‘em.”

The eyes opened to glare up at him. “I despise you; you disgust me – why do I...”

“Aww, poor thing, so confused. You’ve tried to care for me, even saved me from the evil beast – to justify wanting to touch me, to make it okay. It’s your nature to save things, of course. Doesn’t change the fact that you do truly hate me – hence your struggle. Truth is, you wanna punish yourself and your subconscious chose me. I’m flattered, actually; though, to be honest, if you’d picked someone else, I’d be terribly jealous.”

“Why ... this?”

“Sex? I told you, Batty – denial of craving, subversion of natural drives: never a good idea. Nature is the mate of Chaos – deny her and she’ll fuck you up bad. Did you ever read the works of the Marquis de Sade?”

“Not a man I admire but of course you would.”

Joker tsk-tsked at him. “Look what having no outlet for sex, or even choking the bishop, did to Charlie. You’re almost as repressed as he was. I do hope you weren’t a virgin before I got you – so tedious, having to teach ‘em from scratch. It’s far more fun to take preformed and treasured notions and ideals and twist ‘em ‘til they break. Then you set the bones to grow in odd ways and wait to see what happens! That’s half the fun, really – never knowing how the finished piece of art will turn out.”

“I can’t begin to understand a man like you, can I?”

Laughing, the Joker replied, “Welcome to my filthy mind.”

Leaning down, he kissed the man again, with heat. Grinning when he responded in kind, Joker levered himself up to sit on thick thighs with his knees pressed into the sides of the armor. Holding the man’s gaze, he groped for and seized the stiffening bat dick next to his rock-hard erection.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s called fucking, precious, haven’t you been paying attention?” When he started to rise, Joker’s fingertips on his lips stopped him. “Relax and enjoy – besides, I prefer to bottom from the top.”

It should have been easy to straddle his hips, even with the armor; easy to lift and stab himself with that cock, to move in a strong piston rhythm – but the pain medication was wearing off. He sought to ignore it as the deep, dull ache in muscles and joints seeped back into his awareness, concentrating only on making the bat’s eyes roll back in his head.

When it was over, eyes all properly rolled, he felt no bloom of satisfaction at the flush of shame on the face beneath him, no crowing delight in his victory.

His neglected erection still stiff and hungry, he dismounted without a word. Settling on his side, his back to the bat, he yanked the sheet over his hips and stared at the shadows under the dim lights.

“You’re in pain again.”

Joker slowly closed his eyes. “It will pass.”

“I promise you, he will pay for what he did – within the law.”

“Your justice is too slow for me; your system is broken.”

Inexplicably, the bat responded, “I know.”


	8. Dying in Pieces

Walking, waiting  
Alone without a care  
Hoping an’ hating  
Things that I can’t bear  
Did ya think it’s cool to walk right up  
To take my life and fuck it up  
Well did you  
Well did you?

I see hell in your eyes  
Taken in by surprise  
Touching you makes me feel alive  
Touching you makes me die inside  
I hate you!

I slept so long without you  
It’s tearing me apart to  
How to get this far  
Playing games with this old heart  
I’ve killed a million petty souls  
But I couldn’t kill you  
I’ve slept so long without you

I see hell in your eyes  
Taken in by surprise  
Touching you makes me feel alive  
Touching you makes me die inside

~ Slept So Long (Jay Gordon/Orgy)

*****************************************************************

Joker shuddered as the chill sank into his bones. When his body was covered, first by the bulk of the bedmate pressing against his back, and then by blankets up to his ears, he pulled himself out of a deep and troubled sleep.

Full awareness snapped in when warm fingers of flesh and bone closed around the rampant erection he’d only vaguely been conscious of in dreams. Eyes widening, he banished the nightmares and let the data pour in unfiltered through every sense he possessed.

A hard and rounded part of the armor was touching his shoulder near the bed, but it stopped halfway down the chest to allow sculpted muscle covered by vulnerable skin to touch his back. A soft brush of hair on bare and equally muscled thighs almost tickled as the legs fit against his. The shaft of the thick cock, hungry again, was nestled slightly between the cheeks of his ass and no painful edges of armor plates were present.

The fingers began to squeeze and stroke him. They were still clumsy, but better from that angle.

_As if he’s pretending he’s stroking himself. Devil below – did he take off the mask?_

Before he could turn his head, his stomach in freefall, lips moved his hair with their breath as the hard line of the cowl around the mouth brushed his ear.

“Your meds are on the tray, there,” the bat whispered, “if you want them.”

Joker couldn’t see where he’d indicated but it had to be either the table or still in the slot.

“Not ... just now.”

Breathing deep, he could smell the stale musk of their earlier romps mixed with a ghost of spiced soap and fresh sweat.

Having opened his senses fully, the rest of the sensory data that had only lingered in the brain’s margins pushed in to distract him.

The Citadel was never silent. Water dripped incessantly from the faucet he’d drunk from before and from inside the tunnel hidden in the wall at their backs. Other noises that might have seemed menacing to someone else could all be categorized. A rat under the table scuttled about and in the distance, the nurse was shutting the door to the staff quarters. Overhead, an almost audible groan of stones fluttered in his ears as the weight of the world above threatened. It was downright metaphoric.

“Are you... Is this ... helping or not?”

Dragging his attention back, Joker swallowed hard before forcing his body to relax. “Bit of a surprise attack, Bats, to say nothing of the costume change – was I out long?”

“A couple of hours.” Puff of breath at his ear. “If you’d rather I stopped…?”

“Mmm, no, ‘rather’ you didn’t. Tell me – did your impromptu lobotomy hurt much?”

“You’re the one with all the theories on why I want this.”

“Huh – that’s not really an answer, though, is it? Still fixated on want, too... Never mind. Look, listen – don’t move your hand. Keep the one grip and slide it, hmm? Don’t treat yourself to this much, either, do you?” When he abruptly got it right, Joker sucked in a sharp breath. “Ooooh, well, retracting that comment. Grip harder, precious, there’s a good boy.”

“I’ll hurt you –”

“If wishes were horses...” Curling his lip as it hung on the edge of getting him there, he hissed. “Oh, just jack the shit outta the thing, will you? Have you noticed I like it rough?”

When the bat attempted to comply, the grip increased again, making pain bloom in the hungry abused organ. The noise Joker made almost stopped the hand but the snarl that followed kicked it into gear.

The body behind him pressed in closer, the fingers of the other hand slipping into his hair at the top of his head. The instant a leg moved to pin his, he began to tense.

As he neared his climax, Joker gasped out, “Stop, stop, stop... Let me up.” Confused, the bat hesitated, the hand pausing. The trapped feeling grew, threatened to make him thrash against it. “Damn you, let me loose!”

Falling away to his back, the bat released his hair, cock, and legs at once. Joker twisted, tore bedding out of his way and moved to straddle the man’s bare hips. Ignoring the shocked look on the masked face, Joker’s eyes devoured the heavy and sculpted Adonis beneath him. His fingers reached down to wrap around his frustrated cock and jacked it, neglecting the twin erection that lay on the hard abdominals.

Without a word, he drove it to a frantic finish, letting the slick cover those muscles as they began to move with a faster, shorter breath. Following it with his mouth, he bent down, curling his back to claim the small but hard nipples below the edge of the armor’s breast collar. Lips, tongue, and finally teeth, he worked the nipples until the man winced at the next touch there, gasping from both pleasure and the shock of pain.

His hand let his cock fall to strike the bat’s, both hands moving to smear the slick up and all over the shuddering muscles.

One pair of fingers readied his body for the next round but the others had a different goal. When he was all set, he smiled at the fogged expression on the bat’s face. The man hadn’t even noticed most of what he’d done.

Avoiding the edge of the cowl where it was still anchored to the breast collar, he caressed the fingers of his other hand up the armored neck until he could press them, sticky and warm, to the open and soundless cry of the lips.

“Suck ‘em,” he whispered over him, the words almost a hiss.

Below, he moved his body to trap their cocks; his softening, the bat’s an iron rod. The dark eyes pulled back into focus, narrowing, as he tried to speak.

Joker interrupted the effort. “Suck ‘em – if you wanna have that thing down south sucked on, Batty.”

Pushing the fingers past the lips, he felt the hot mouth and the tongue, winding and unsure, and regretted that he couldn’t come again instantly at the feel of it. Watching avidly as the bat sucked his fingers wet and clean, he grinned down at him.

“There, not so difficult, is it? I’m both salty and sweet. You, if you wanna know, have a delicious tang – almost as if the chemicals on that armor worked right into your balls. Actually, you might wanna look into that, in case it hinders future baby bats, hmm?”

Sliding down and off, he lay between the legs and curled one hand around the other man’s cock. Dipping his head lower, he licked the scrotum once before he began to work it into his mouth. Unable to smile at the noises their owner was making, he batted the balls around inside the sack with his tongue.

When the bare hands grabbed his shoulders, he released the scrotum and gripped a wrist, pulling the hand up so he could put three fingers in his mouth and toy with them instead. The expression he was given was well worth putting off the main event. Now, whenever he suckled the gloved fingers, the bat would remember what it felt like on flesh.

As he dropped the fingers, he was in range again and darted down to put the head of the cock in his mouth.

“Wait, slow down – oh, God, wait...”

Ignoring his entreaty, Joker started to swallow it, working his throat to accept it, to caress it. One hand slapped down onto a bunched thigh for balance as the other went down between the legs. Waiting until the man was lost in the throes of what his throat was doing, Joker aimed a forefinger, wet from the bat’s mouth. Pressing it against the viciously tight anal ring, he worked it in slow and careful.

Dismissing the curses as mere noise, he pushed in deeper, crooked the finger and brushed it over the bump of the prostate. Increasing the pressure on the prostate and then swallowing to constrict his throat around the cock, he began to gauge how much time they had. As the climax neared, he tore his finger out of the man’s body and reared back to release the cock.

Twisting and pushing his body up beside him before the bat could move or react, Joker rolled to his belly and then rose up on hands and knees.

“Take it,” he urged, his voice rough and strained. “Take what you need.”

When large hands yanked his legs open wider, he bit down on his tongue to muffle a cry. Too far gone to worry about making anything easy on him, the bat simply impaled him and began to thrust.

As it had been before, Joker knew it would be quick. He was grateful for that when his muscles tensed like bunched wire, radiating pain like heat.

He used it, the pain and the burning pleasure, all of it – to convince himself it was real ... he was real. As it went on, he almost believed it.

_I’m alive – damaged, but alive. They did their worst and I survived. They did their worst..._

Behind and over him, the Batman groaned – that magnificent sound of an iron control shattering. Inside, need burst, and he collapsed under the man’s weight.

With a grunt, mere moments later, the bat withdrew and moved. His back pressed to the stone wall, he watched the Joker warily.

Joker winced and rolled on his side to face him, laying his head on an outstretched arm. “You know, I do like the new look: bondage kink meets vigilante exploitation film.” Giggling at the mental image, he added, “You should use ‘Sugarlips’ as your porn star name.”

Glaring, the bat ground out, “Do you really want me to add a few broken bones to your bruises?”

“Now, now ... temper. Gimme a pet name, then, if you like. How ‘bout one of my old favorites: ‘Daddy’s Little Cum Dumpster’. No? Pick your own, then – go nuts with it.”

The bat didn’t reply but the glare darkened. Joker sighed and fought to stand up, weaving just a little as he went to retrieve a paper cup and envelope full of pills from the waiting slot.

He hadn’t missed the fact that the table was covered by a dark pile of oddly shaped objects – the armor, the material he wore beneath it, the cape – and the utility belt full of weapons and toys.

Smirking at the other man’s focused yet roving stare, he fished out all but the sleeping pill. After giving them a quick glance to see what they were, he downed them all at once with a swig of water.

“Fucking things won’t kick in for another half hour,” he complained. Moving to the table, he set the cup and envelope on the edge of the black pile and turned to face his brooding companion.

A few slow drips ran down the inside of his thigh and he reached to smear the slick trails into his skin, tossing a wink at the expression of disgust he got from the Batman.

Leaning one hip on the edge of the table, he crossed his arms over his chest and met the man’s hard stare.

“Penny for your thoughts, precious.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“What a loaded question – might need to narrow it down a bit.”

“This, all of it.”

Joker slid one foot back and let his toes play with one of the boots under the table. _Probably a blade or two in those..._ “Huh – no, uh, not quite narrow enough.”

“Being with ... another man – being so … violent about it.”

“Ah. Um, no, it doesn’t bother me, one or the other. I hate labels, remember?”

“Do you ... seek out ... women?”

“Seek out? You make it sound like hunting season. Besides Nurse Alice, right? She doesn’t count in your pat little reasoning, since she ‘forced me’, hmm?”

Joker shifted slightly, his back in pain. He could have returned to the bed or sat in the chair but he was enjoying the discomfort that his displayed post-coital nudity was putting the bat in.

“Here and there,” he replied to the original question, “when opportunity knocks and a female of the species collides with the desire to copulate with one. Mostly, they’re a lot of work. Males are such simpler creatures – at least the ones I usually spear; the more insane the better. It’s practical – when minions have little to do, they still gotta purpose.”

Smirking again at the gathering frown the bat was sporting, he anticipated the question that the man might never get up the guts to ask.

“I don’t bottom for many, Lamb Chop – you’re special.”

“Why did you panic and tell me to stop, just to start again the minute I did?”

Joker narrowed his eyes at him, trying to gauge why he was asking. _Chalk it up to the old game of ‘curious about the crazy person’, I suppose._

He flicked his tongue out over his lips to buy a moment to regain his aplomb.

“I’m sure Dr. Arkham would attribute it to PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder, for the city park janitors in the audience. According to our oh-so-helpful Nurse Helen, Dr. Tanner had me strapped in without a sedative or muscle relaxant before he electrocuted my brain. While confinement never did appeal, complete immobility is considerably less entertaining, with or without the added torture.”

“Perhaps it’ll give you insight on how your victims felt.”

“Perhaps? Oh, you’re cute,” he responded with a sneer. “Empathy is for the weak and the soon to be dead; amazing how often that’s the same batch of morons. Dr. Tanner took something from me that I might not ever get back; he’s gonna pay for it and that’s between him and me. ‘Victims’, wastes of space, don’t have shit to do with this.”

“You’ve taken and survived a stunning amount of damage before –”

“Try being tied down and cooked sometime, darling – see if you think it’s an utter giggle-fest.” Sighing, Joker lifted one hand to rub his temple with gentle fingers. “My brain is my greatest weapon, Bats; imagine launching into battle with chunks of your armor missing, hmm? Or jump off a building after a sadist has ripped off your wings. Just tell me before you do – I wanna watch.”

“You’re a sadist and it’s not the same; I wasn’t strapping you down.”

“Just getting clingy with the insane freak, huh? Trying to get close, seeking all that yummy intimacy. Maybe we should be asking what the hell you were trying to accomplish with that stunt.”

“I was trying to help you relax.”

“Here’s a clue for you, Sherlock – wrapping yourself around me like a hungry squid: Is. Not. Relaxing.”

“You prefer to be in control.”

“He gets it in three.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Joker – I wouldn’t have then.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Not gonna hurt me. You hurt me a lot – can’t wait to, some nights. Oh, I like it, for the most part ... but it’s still a ridiculous thing to claim. For instance, the bone breaking threat over a bit of teasing – ah, how quickly they forget.”

As the bat watched him in silence, Joker struggled with the transition from seductive play to threatening vulnerability. It made his palms itch, longing to hold something sharp. The alluring scent of chemical coating shifted his attention, giving infernal inspiration.

_What sorta potential mayhem might be sitting right there, I wonder, in this jumble of crime fighting goodies?_

Reaching behind him, he let his fingers do the walking and found a treasure – one of the bat-shaped throwing blades. It had been knocked loose from somewhere in the apparent hurry to get down to flesh and blood tacks.

“Drop it or I’ll break your hand.”

“See what I mean? You must be so fun at dinner parties.” Bringing it forward, his long fingers toyed with the sharp edges. “I have one of these, you know – a souvenir of one of our evenings together; none of ‘em as fun as lately, of course.”

Keeping his movements slow and casual, he held the weapon in one hand and gathered up a bunch of his hair in the other. Slicing through it was easy – the feel of the blade in his fingers enough to stir his cock a little. Methodically, he grabbed another bunch of sandy-green locks and cut it, and then another.

When his hair hung raggedly at his shoulders again, he lowered his head and glanced up at the bat from under the locks that covered half of his face.

The blade was held carefully yet firmly in his left hand but the bat obviously wasn’t fooled – he knew he was just as capable of using it in either hand.

“Come on, Lamb Chop – dance with me.”

“You’re barely keeping on your feet. If you’d rather salvage your pride and your body parts – drop it.”

“No fun, no, no, no.”

Sighing again, knowing he wasn’t up to it yet, he set the blade down on the table – his fingers loathe to leave it. Tearing his gaze away from the dark shine of it, he took the shorn hair to the toilet in the alcove.

He heard the bat rise and approach under the noise of the flushing water. One slight tilt of his head would make the man aware of that but he wasn’t using stealth.

“What time is it, precious? We’ve been chatting a while.”

The footsteps didn’t falter and then the hands gripped his shoulders. “Nearly dawn.”

“Looking to get ‘one for the road’, mmm?”

“I’m going to put you back in bed so your medicine can do you some good.”

Joker turned, breaking his hold on him. Without the boots and armor, ignoring the bat ears, he gauged that he was an inch taller. The Batman was heavier, his muscles more developed, but not by much.

 _No use – too weak yet, which he was kind enough to rub in. Might be able to whack the nurse but not this chunk of raw fiesty._ “I find it interesting that you assume I’ll keep your little secret forever and ever.”

“You’re conveniently insane – no one would believe you.”

“That’s a tad thin, even for you.”

“You want to keep it to yourself; you’re a very private person, aren’t you, no matter how blasé you are about some things. This is – personal, for you.”

“Not bad. Gonna sweep me off my feet and carry me to bed?”

“What do you get out of this mess? Why are you going along with it at all?”

Joker’s hands lifted, the fingers and palms touching the bat’s abdomen and chest, caressing over them. One of them went lower and cupped the soft cock and vulnerable scrotum. Leaning in, his head ducking down, his lips brushed over a nipple.

Straightening, he replied, “Beyond the chance to get laid by the Batman? I get to kill you.” Smirking at the startled expression that won, he chucked the bat lightly on the chin with scarred knuckles. “Didn’t you know that the French call an orgasm ‘la petite mort’, the little death? We’ve died together many times in this dank tomb.”

“That’s not an answer –”

“Of course it is – just not the one you ‘wanted’ to hear. Stick around, hmm? We can have a nap and then fuck again, since you don’t wanna fight.”

“I’d rather not educate the nurse; she’d probably go straight to the tabloids.”

“Oooo, wry humor – is that a first? It’d be your fault, too, since you didn’t want me to kill her. We could call her in – _ménage_ à troi in an asylum; I’d get another mark on my list.”

“Hush,” the bat whispered, his hands grasping the Joker’s shoulders again.

The grip was surprisingly loose, until he noted the glow of lust in the dark eyes. Joker opened his mouth when the bat leaned close to kiss him. If he planned to stand there and let him massage his junk much longer, the nap wouldn’t be necessary.

“Stay,” he whispered against the smooth lips, shivering when the tongue licked over the scar in his bottom lip.

“I can’t. Go back to bed – you’re going to freeze and you need sleep.”

“I’ve had more rest than you have, Batty.” Pushing to deepen the kiss, he plied his best tricks to make the man groan the moment it broke. “I’ll hit the sack if you will – just for a few hours.” Working the cock slowly erect, he smiled to see that his own wasn’t too far behind. “You know, precious, you should let me fuck that vise you call an ass – save me the trouble of sorting out how to make you later, yes?”

“No.”

“Sure? Didn’t see ‘exit only’ tattooed on it and my finger curled your toes nicely; imagine what the whole dick could do to you.” The bat’s expression might have killed a lesser fiend. “Hmm ... doomed to bottom here, am I?”

“You talk too much.”

Heedless of the grasp he had on delicate parts, the Batman’s fingers dug into his shoulders painfully and turned them both to put Joker’s back to the bed. Moving forward, he propelled the Joker back until he could push him down onto the bed.

Joker let go of his cock just before he might have injured it and allowed himself to fall onto the blanket and tangled bedding. The meds were kicking in and he was eager to play.

Spreading his thighs, he shook his chopped hair out of his face and grinned up at the bat.

“I like the scars, darling – any of ‘em mine?”

“A few.” Reaching down, the bat grabbed a wrist and yanked it across his body, pulling him onto his belly with a huff. “I have to touch you to do this – I’d rather not look at you.”

“Afraid you’ll see yourself looking back?” At the sound of the man spitting on his fingers, Joker squirmed a bit. “Slip a couple in first, hmm? Open me some, for once.”

“I’d rather not.” The fingertips barely touched him to smear the spit on his hole.

Smirking into the blankets, Joker waited as the bat set his knees on the bed, straddling his closed legs. When the cock pressed its head in, he stretched his back straight, hands gripping the blanket.

Faking a good approximation of a pained struggle beneath him, he timed his vocal performance for the first full thrust. Letting loose a harsh scream, he scrabbled, trying to get away.

Straining and panting, he cried out again on the next thrust. “Stop! Please, Bats, please stop... It hurts!” Shocked that he was serious, the bat stopped and started to withdraw. Joker reached back before he could and snatched his wrist. “Psych! Pound away, precious, I’m just joking.”

“You bastard...”

“Aww, can’t a guy have a bit of fun? Didn’t wanna be on my belly for this.” Peering over his shoulder, he laughed at the stricken expression on the masked face. “Convincing, aren’t I? Hear that sorta caterwauling enough and it starts getting easy to mimic.”

“Mimic...” He wilted a little, looking a bit green. “Meaning, you’ve raped...”

Joker tossed a wink back at him. “Just figuring that out, are we? Boy, this ‘innocent ‘til proven guilty’ trip you’re on is a real scream.”

When the bat tugged at his claimed wrist, Joker shook his head. “Ah, ah, ah – you’re no quitter; shove it back up and let’s go, mmm? I’ll behave.”

“Would you ever admit it if I really did injure you?”

“Probably not – you’d stop if I did.” Bucking up, he made the cock push deeper, smiling at the grunt of surprise he got. “Focus, Batty – asses to fuck, then places to go. Stop trying to be careful while you’re in there, too, hmm? I prefer the ‘gonna press charges’ kind of buggering!”

“I can’t do this.” The wrist tugged again. Even as the body was eager, on fire, the mind that governed it was disciplined enough to command it to stop.

“It’s all too weird for you, is it? What can we do ‘bout that?” Grinning over his shoulder at the bat, he dropped his tone low and leered. “If you need to call me Rachel, big boy – I don’t mind; whatever it takes for you to get your frrreak on!”

He laughed with delight when the bat’s anger used his cock to punish him for that taunt. The brutal fuck that followed was everything he liked and more. It lasted longer, too – likely because he’d dropped an anvil on the bat’s libido. Lingering seemed to be almost traumatic for the flying rodent though, which added yet another layer to the Joker’s enjoyment.

By the time he climaxed, his dick buried in a pile of bedding, it hit him so hard it left him dizzy. Then he had a non-distracted chance to feel every nuance of the bat’s mixed-up lust as it sought release in hated flesh. Exploding with a guttural cry only a few breaths behind, the man collapsed. Pressing down on the Joker, his body taut and trembling with wrath, the bat fought to breathe.

Muffled by the bedding he was almost buried in, Joker murmured, “Devil below, precious – the madder you get the better you fuck.”

The Batman got up and away from him as fast as he could but his trademark quick exit was hindered by the fact that his armor was in a pile on the table.

Joker rolled to his side and gleefully watched the whole process. Piece by piece, it was reassembled over the black material, all of it covering up the smooth yet randomly marred skin until only the mouth and eyes were visible again.

Without a word, the tall shadow strode to the door, taking the key out of one of those clever little pockets on the utility belt.

Pitching his tone and manner to mimic a petulant mistress, Joker quipped, “I’ll just wait here, shall I?” The bat didn’t even pause to turn and glare at him. Feeling smug, his changeling voice became low and soft. “See you tonight, my lamb – after you’ve worked up another fresh head of steam.”

The response was short and sharp with anger. “I won’t be back.”

Seconds before the door closed, he goaded, “Oh, yes you will.” A shrill burst of laughter on the heels of the words chased the man away like a scalded bat.

~ ~ ~

Torn between the lure of sleep and the call of adventure, he finally decided to make use of the false vigor lent by meds and try out the main tunnel. There would never be a safer time to explore, with day breaking in the world above and the bat off nursing his wounds devil-knows-where.

Pulling on the orange cotton clothes and thin white shoes, he got down on hands and knees on the stone floor and flattened onto his belly to crawl under the bed.

After a little bit of feeling around for the seams and the screws that otherwise bolted the side of the bed to the wall, he began touching and counting them off. It was the center seven and each one had to be loosened a specific number of turns in the right sequence before the opening would unlock.

It wasn’t simple or quick but he was complex and patient and had all day. About fifteen minutes of cramped effort later, the tiny click sounded, allowing his spirits to rise with anticipation. Palms flat on the section of stone, he shoved at it. Eventually, he had to shift and get his feet around, kicking it solidly twice, before the narrow cut opened. Moving back to where he’d started, he rolled up and over the thin slab of stone to enter the tunnel.

From the inside, the stone had an iron handle for putting it back into place, which he did carefully. Rising to his feet with one hand on the wall, he suppressed a shiver. This tunnel was not dry, being too close to the pipe system of faulty plumbing, and he was half soaked from rolling onto the bottom of it.

The tunnel was pitch black and claustrophobically narrow and low, forcing his six-foot-one frame to stoop a bit as he walked confidently along it on memory alone. Now and then, he brushed through an unseen spider web or ducked under a low-hanging pipe – warned in time by the sound of water rushing or trickling through it.

Listening closely to the sounds in and outside of the tunnel, he abruptly stopped and touched the wall again, feeling for a seam before finding a second iron handle and horizontal row of rusty screws. Opening that coded lock, he yanked on the handle to pop out the back wall of Dr. Arkham’s office closet. Humming happily, he stepped out of the tunnel onto dusty green tiles.

A few white coats hung on wire hangers and he took one down and slipped it on.

Fingers busily unwrapping the hanger a moment later, he opened it up into a bent length of terribly useful aluminum wire. Grinning, he bent it in the middle and hung it around the back of his neck.

Leaving the tunnel door hanging open, he entered the office itself, closing the closet door behind him. A blacker hulk hunched in the dark in front of him: the large and heavy metal desk with its imposing leather chair. Beyond that was a smattering of file cabinets, a sideboard, and of course, the preposterous dark leather antique fainting couch.

Joker made a rude noise. _Never saw the backside of a patient in a real session, so why keep it? Not for appearances; the few people that know the Citadel exists know that it only houses patients that are far too gone for a mere couch. That’s the official story, anyway. I wonder how long it’s been since this place was used to actually treat someone? Perhaps it misses it – might have to remedy that._

Switching on a small lamp on the desk, he ignored the few files piled near it and began searching the contents of the drawers. One of the first treasures found was a scalpel in a leather case. Joker popped that into an interior pocket of the coat and began feeling around on the tops of the spaces after pulling the drawers out almost all the way.

 _Doc, I could kiss you,_ he thought, when his fingers brushed over a tiny key under paper.

Slipping it out of the envelope that was taped in place, he held the brass key in his fingertips and rose from the doctor’s chair. Heading for the large steel wall cabinet over the sideboard that held all of the fun medicines, he was soon rifling through it.

He worked quickly, stuffing a few specific meds into the coat pockets. Tearing the paper wrapper off a syringe, he found needles and used one to draw an injection of succinylcholine. Capping it securely, he slid the muscle relaxant in, cap up, next to the leather scalpel case.

After locking the cabinet, he returned the key to its envelope and closed all of the drawers. In the distance, he heard the hum of the dumb waiter operating.

_Nurse Helen is having our breakfast sent down – time to thank her for taking such good care of me. The depth of my gratitude will depend on how helpful she is, of course; otherwise, we’ll be checking the depth of a scarlet puddle and to hell with what Bats thinks._

One hand gripping the wire around his neck loosely, the other grabbed the main doorknob and turned it, opening the door into the lighted foyer without a sound.

A ghost might have made more noise creeping up behind the woman, after slipping through the door she’d left open to the smaller office.

Holding the wire in both hands, he waited until she was focused on watching the little platform move to the bottom of the shaft. Before she bent to grasp the tray, he looped the wire over her head.

Nurse Helen gasped, failed to get her hands up into the wire as it was pulled tight, and flopped against his torso like a gaffed fish. Just for fun, he let it press into her flesh a bit so that when he decided to let her breathe, she might appreciate it more.

As she struggled, her blunt nails trying to scratch his thick wrists, he bent his head down to whisper in her ear, “Shall we dance, my love?”

He pushed her forward into the wall next to the shaft of the dumb waiter in the same instant that he let go of one side of the wire. Dropping it behind him, he pulled her around to face him. Hands over her breasts, he slammed her back into the wall and held her there. Grinning at the sight of her wide and horrified eyes, he opened his mouth and licked the flat of his tongue up the burned side of her face.

“How –?”

“Yours not to reason why, yours but to do – or die.”

His hands squeezed the small breasts, hurting her.

“I’m exactly the wrong sex to turn you on, aren’t I, sweet pea – story of my life around here, really – but that would just make it, uh, extra fun for me.”

Tilting his head, his lips stretched into a leering smirk. He lifted one hand and gave the nipple under it a vicious pinch, almost purring at her tiny cry of pain.

“The bloody bat doesn’t want me to kill you but you still need some sorta comeuppance, hmm?”

Fighting to speak around her terror, she confessed, “I screwed up, I know that – but I had no idea Dr. Tanner would go that far. I thought his usual petty cruelties would just amuse you.”

She tried to press into the wall when his raised hand closed on her throat. The strength there was enough to kill her, even weak as he was, and she knew it.

“Amuse me.” Arching one eyebrow, he considered it. “I did quite like his shiny needles; they made my tummy go all fluttery – and the sticky end result was delicious.”

“It was that whore Alice – messing with her; his goons were gossiping about it. Anyone messing there makes him furious ... makes him...”

“Insane?” Giggling, Joker slid his hands to her shoulders. “He’s in the right place for that, with a long list of psychiatric predecessors trading places with their patients in cozy bouncy rooms before him. He’s not gonna end up locked in his own ward, though – do you know why?”

Tears gathering in her dark eyes, she whispered, “Why?”

“‘Cause he’s gonna get dead,” he ground out in a low rough snarl of hate. Fingertips lifted to gently stroke her burn scars as his tone turned light and whispy. “Wanna help?”

Overwhelmed with a collection of fears and hatreds, she tried to swallow a sob. “It was him, he did it,” she whispered, “almost a year ago, when he first came here. That bitch was sentenced to a cell upstairs – a real nurse but involved in the death of her husband. The lawyers got her ruled insane to keep her out of Blackgate Penitentiary. The minute Dr. Tanner read her file, he had her transferred down here but not as a patient. No one pays attention ... or cares ... in this place.”

Leaning in close, pressing into her, his lips brushed her marred temple. “So when she got bi-curious, you just had to play...”

“He walked in on us; she knew he would, knew he was walking there when she started...” Tears fell, a warm wet stream of salt over old wounds.

“Oooh, shh, shh, shhh...” Kissing her temple, he jerked her shoulders up away from the wall and wrapped her in a tight embrace. “I misjudged your marks, then – they aren’t as old as I thought. Don’t fret, sweet pea, no – the scars make you interesting and that’s better than beauty.”

She was stiff and afraid in his arms but warming to their common hatred.

“He took a welding torch to my face and she watched. She ... she was ... touching herself ... when he burned me.”

Clucking at her, he reached to pet her black hair. “She throws herself at others to enrage him, to make him damage people. Not everyone gets caught, simply because she likes to fuck a helluva lot more often than Dr. Tanner can get it up.” Mulling it all over, he felt a frown take over his face. “I’ve made up my mind about you, darling – you’re worth more to me alive than the fun it would be to kill you. Pity.”

Pulling her back from him, he wiped away her tears with one long finger before he released her and stepped back. When he put the finger to his lips to taste her pain, the smirk growing around it, she slumped back against the wall and watched him warily.

“I want ... to help, Joker – I promise I will.”

“Uh-hmm... Fine, fine.” Turning away, he strolled to a small desk and sprawled in the wooden chair. “I’m gonna rest up today, I think, after a quick jaunt upstairs. Back before lunch, I promise. Tomorrow, I’ll be that much stronger. Then we’ll start to take ‘em down, yes?”

“How? What will we do with them?”

She dared to stand away from the wall and even took a few hopeful steps closer to the desk.

“Take ‘em apart, of course – one by one, piece by piece. Wanna save Dr. Tanner for last, but better steal him first if I get a chance; can’t risk the bat or Gordon dragging him off. Without him, the others will be ducks, ducky – sitting pretty and lost ‘til I snatch ‘em.” He grabbed the air in front of his face and fisted it.

“It’s tunnels and secret doors, isn’t it – can you escape?”

“Not yet. Too much to do here.” Letting his eyes rove over her simple white nurse’s uniform, he grinned as he sat back to relax. “Gotta spare set of whites?”

“Y-yes...”

“Good. I’ll want another set of these, too.” He plucked at the orange scrub shirt under the doctor’s coat – it was still damp and probably quite soiled. “I know you don’t bother with makeup but if you would make the effort to find me something…? Most of your more feminine peers have been issued those little silk zippered bags for keeping bits and bobs in?”

“I will.” She stood a little straighter, as if she was beginning to believe she might survive their partnership after all. “What will we do to the doctor?”

“Gotta few grisly ideas up my sleeve, never fear. We’ll fix sweet Alice, too – maybe I’ll sew her cunt shut.” Flicking his tongue out in anticipation, he asked, “What do they think happened, with me? Up there? Or you, for that matter.”

“Rumor is, Dr. Arkham arranged your transfer to a ‘secure location’ in the asylum after a report was made about Dr. Tanner’s lax security on the solitary wing. Since the incident with the orderly, something had to be done. You were the only reason I was there at all, so Dr. Arkham reassigned me to care for you.”

“Who made the report? Did it make the news?”

“It did. Commissioner Gordon wasn’t at liberty to say; he just wanted to quell the rumor that you’d escaped. The reporters were all over that idiot Charlie’s arrest.”

“Ah, poor Charlie – he ended up useful after all, though. No one knows the director is AWOL, yes?”

“No one outside the asylum – until you told Batman. They haven’t publicized that; the city was in enough of an uproar.”

“My dubious fate caused a stir, hmm? Was the report the bat’s idea or yours?”

“Batman’s, but I wrote a real one up after the fact for him. He went to a surprising amount of trouble for you.”

“He’s a peach ... but I’d bet most of that dog and pony bullshit was to save his security guard sycophant from being blamed for my disappearance. I suppose he’s talked Dr. Arkham into backing up all of their lies?”

“I guess he did. The staff here is stirred up about the director coming back but Dr. Tanner doesn’t seem a bit worried about it, the arrogant bastard.”

“Does he believe Dr. Arkham transferred me here?”

“His goon squad said he did. They knew it meant the Citadel, too.” She paused, her eyes widening. “That means he knows where we are!”

“He can’t get in. On the other hand, I might be able to use it to our advantage if he actually attempts to come calling.”

“I want to watch you hurt that man ... and his whore.”

Joker steepled his fingers and sat up to lean his elbows on the desk.

“Do you know how to administer a saline drip, to keep someone alive after they’ve lost a lot of blood? Or ... while they happen to be losing it…?”

Staring at him, she stood very still. Her abruptly rapid breathing told him she’d just remembered that all of this camaraderie didn’t mean she was safe from him herself.

“Yes.”

“That’s my girl; you just keep on being useful and we’ll see ‘bout letting you off the hook indefinitely, mmm?” Beaming at her, he sat up straight with his hands on his thighs. “Psst ... come here, darling, come close – daddy’s gotta secret to share.”

Sweat popped on her brow and upper lip as she slowly approached him. He took her hand and pulled at her until she bent down to let him whisper in her ear. In the first few moments of silence, he could almost hear her heart slamming against her ribs.

Lips touching her hair and the curve of her ear, he whispered, “I’m hungry, sweet pea ... what’s for breakfast?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the line, “Yours not to reason why, yours but to do – or die”, Joker is cribbing from the poem "The Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, which refers to the “noble six hundred” making a brave if futile charge at the Battle of Balaclava during the Crimean War. The original line is, “Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die: into the valley of Death rode the six hundred”. As the poem tells of the futility of noble men taking on chaos in war and dying for it, I imagine it would appeal to the Joker a lot in a twisted way. I also like to give hints that he is well-read in addition to being quite intelligent. In my imagination, I like to view him as being capable of higher education but unable to take that path. So he is self-educated with a vengeance and has a habit of cribbing lines of classic writings, perhaps to keep people guessing – or to freak them out. He is probably often disappointed when the people he is dealing with don’t recognize the quotes anyway. Thanks for reading! – AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	9. Brenda

Don’t go looking for snakes you might find them  
Don’t send your eyes to the sun you might blind them  
Haven’t I seen you here before?

Oh, watch the puppets dancing  
Yeah, see the clowns fall down  
Hey, tie your tap shoes tightly  
Yeah, wear them into town  
See you crawling, see you crawling

Don’t go looking for snakes you might find them  
Don’t send your eyes to the sun you might blind them  
Haven’t I seen you here before?  
There ain’t no heroes here  
No, no more

Oh, play the game so nicely  
Oh, check, it’s your move now  
Yeah, we’re standing in this jungle  
Yeah, with serpents I have found  
See you crawling, see you crawling

Don’t go looking for snakes you might find them  
Don’t send your eyes to the sun you might blind them  
Haven’t I seen you here before?  
Have your heroes disappeared?

So don’t go looking for snakes you might find them  
No, there ain’t no heroes here

~ Slither (Metallica)

*****************************************************************

“Well, you’re a little furry, but no one pays attention to the nurses in Arkham.”

Stretched out on the director’s fainting couch with his eyes closed against the lamplight, Joker smiled. “Unless they look like your girlfriend?”

The skirt reached just below his knees, sure proof he wasn’t Alice.

Helen ignored the jibe. “If you look like you belong, no one should give you a second glance – except...”

Lifting one knee, the skirt sliding down his thigh, his fingers stroked over the silky peach panties she’d brought him with the uniform. The fit was quite snug with cock and balls shoved in them and the material felt amazing.

“Except?” he prompted.

“Your hair. You shouldn’t have cut it – anyone here would do a double take seeing shoulder-length green-streaked hair.”

With a grunt, he sat up. The uniform and shoes had belonged to the nurse who had worked here before her – fortunately, a wider and taller sample of female anatomy. The name tag on the shirt declared her to have been a Brenda.

“I’ll improvise as I go along.”

Her little joke of including the panties had been intended as an insult, he was sure; yet beyond the fun of flustering her, the sensation of them caressing and cupping his junk was a nice adventure all its own.

“Silk and lace?” he teased, smirking up at her.

“Being damaged by that monster doesn’t make me any less a woman,” she retorted, her chin lifting.

Standing, his hands smoothing the skirt around his hairy legs, he giggled. “Me neither.” Turning and posing for her with hands on hips, he asked, “Am I your type yet?”

“Not ... quite.”

“Like ‘em currrvy, hmm? Fine, fine.”

Slipping the wire around the front of his throat like a choker, he fed the stiff ends down into the back of the white shirt. The short sleeves had no fetching pink piping like his last set and Brenda hadn’t believed in Harvey Dent, but her clothes still lent a spring to his step.

“Are you sure you can pull this off? Acting like a woman is a lot harder than dressing like one and you have a very ... different ... gait and carriage.”

“I lurch a bit and slouch a lot, I suppose; it’s that uh, noticeable, is it?”

“It really is; it’s ... creepy – and highly memorable.”

“Hmm, good to know ... but here’s the thing – people see a skirt and their sense of danger goes right out their ears. The person in uniform becomes the symbol the uniform represents and no one looks any closer. Doesn’t even require a skirt – like a member of a police honor guard with a rifle, for instance. They don’t consider that the creature underneath the symbol might be something quite different. It’s the ultimate in ‘hide in plain sight’ wear.”

The large and deep pockets in the skirt were perfect for his other treasures. He grabbed them off the desk and stuffed them in before facing her again.

“Off with you, sweet pea – you have supplies to wrangle.”

“This would be a lot simpler if your bat had left me a key.”

Joker smirked as he pulled on the latex gloves he’d left on the desk. “He’s not exactly the trusting sort. I’m surprised he hasn’t realized Dr. Arkham’s motives aren’t pure as wind-driven snow.”

“Dr. Arkham is very professional, with an air of command, of competency – it just doesn’t occur to people to question anything he says or does.”

“Poppycock. He knows how to say exactly what people wanna hear in the precise moment they expect to hear it – a flawless thespian in a white coat. In fact, his acting is far superior to his head shrinking.” Tilting his head at her, he smiled. “I had no idea he’d snowed you in so deep.”

“He’s the only one in this hellhole who ever treated me like a worthwhile person, before or after I was maimed. He likes me,” she added, giving him a pointed look.

“I’ll file that tidbit away, shall I? Interesting – you do fear him but you admire him more. Huh. He didn’t censor Dr. Tanner for burning you, did you know that? I know for a fact he’s never bothered to chastise what others do here unless they offend him personally. Hence, why I’m after my own revenge – not waiting for daddy to do it for me.”

“He put Dr. Tanner in charge of the solitary wing, where the action isn’t – until you arrived. For a man who likes power, that’s punishment enough.” The woman went to the door and closed it behind her as she muttered over her shoulder, “Good hunting.”

Joker headed into the closet and closed the tunnel opening, securing it just in case she decided to snoop. She had already put his other set of fresh clothes, the orange scrubs the bat would expect him to have, in the slot and pushed it through into the holding cell so that he could change when he returned.

_Pity not to let him enjoy the dress-up, though – maybe sweet Rachel wore silk and lace?_

The steps leading up were the last stop for this tunnel. Rough-hewn and slick from dripping water, it was potentially treacherous going without the steel handrail bolted into one stone wall.

Joker took his time, senses open to draw in all the data around him. It was seventy-two steps to the solitary wing and the opening was housed behind the nurse’s station.

_Odds are dear Alice won’t be there – real nursing isn’t what she was brought in for. If another of the day shift nurses is actually working, it should be either Greta or Irene. Hopefully, it’ll be the brunette, Greta – Brenda sounds like a brunette._

At the top of the steps, there was only one option, accessed with the same code. He paused a moment with one hand braced against the sealed opening and worked on slowing his breathing.

The amphetamine tablets he’d popped dry after the first few steps had kicked his body into overdrive but as usual, the drug brought with it a grab bag of side effects. Flushed and starting to sweat, he nontheless felt his wounded mind take wing with a focus as sharp as the scalpel in his pocket. Euphoria carried him past concern for what the climb had done to his abused muscles, while his natural sense of invincibility hit the red line.

Riding the high with a grin he may as well have torn off the face of the Cheshire Cat, he opened the lock by feel.

Like the others, the opening was troublesome from disuse but he resisted the temptation to kick it. With the steadily increasing pressure of palms on stone, he heard it begin to move and saw a sliver of light showing through. Sounds struck him, too – fingers on a computer keyboard.

As the gap was pushed wider, he found a thin middle-aged woman sitting with her back to him at the nursing station counter. Chocolate curly hair fell around her shoulders, swaying slightly when she paused to reach for her coffee cup.

The Joker didn’t remember how the scalpel ended up in his hand, or let it trouble him as he set it to her throat. The wire for the earphones she wore was caught under his wrist and explained why she hadn’t heard a thing.

His other hand batted her white hat onto the desk and grabbed a fistful of thick curls as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

To amp up her stiff terror, he used his mouth to grab a wire and plucked one of the earbuds out. It fell with the wire behind her ear and hung there swaying, leaking Vivaldi.

“Morning, Greta. Shhh, quiet now, or I’ll slice you. Keep still, yes? Good girl.”

Letting go of her hair, his fingers found the capped syringe. Holding the cap in his teeth, he slipped the needle into her arm and gave her enough to be good and paralyzed but not enough to kill her. Aiming the needle at the cap again, he barely looked at it before putting it back into his pocket. There would be plenty for later and more downstairs.

He took her belt off and used it to secure her to the metal bar that held the small backrest to her seat. When her arms fell, her body slumping, he started gathering up her hair in one hand, holding it up off her neck.

Without stabbing, he cut into the skin at the base of her skull and began carving away about two inches from the hairline. Five long cuts managed it just fine, but the earbud wires didn’t survive the surgery. Prizing the hair and scalp off the skull was tricky and messy, but with her leaning back and his long reach, he could keep most of her blood off him.

The nurse could only make vague tiny sounds and the area was otherwise as quiet as a tomb. As for security down the hall, he hoped he made a cute giant pink rabbit for Callahan’s amusement if the addict happened to glance at his monitors.

Spotting a bottle of water on the desk, he tossed the scalp down on Greta’s lap like a mooshy bowl and used the bottle to rinse it and the scalpel clean. Pouring the water over her lap so he could splash most of the blood from his gloves, he shook the scalp by the hair before plopping the thing over his wavy locks and arranging it just so.

With some of the curls pulled over his shoulders, the thick hair did a nice job of obscuring his scarred cheeks. Retrieving the white nurse hat, he used the bobby pins left on her desk and secured it on borrowed curls.

For a few moments, he stared down at the scalped nurse and wondered if she’d die of blood loss or something more interesting, like malignant hyperthermia induced by the drug. Her eyes weren’t staring back at him – for all intents and purposes, Greta wasn’t at home anymore.

Smirking, he put the scalpel’s handle in his mouth and opened the belt. One tug and she fell to the blotchy green tiles.

He grabbed her ankles and hauled her through the opening into the tunnel. Arranging her in a bent slouch on the top step, he landed a solid kick to her back and stood watching her tumble, voiceless, into the dead black.

Joker left the opening propped with a metal pen and moved the coat rack with its collection of sweaters and jackets to hide it.

A quick inspection of the computer proved that she’d been typing nonsense on a blank file positioned under a game of solitaire. Tsk-tsking, he left the machine alone and took the scalpel handle from his mouth. As he began to open desk drawers, his tongue flicked out over his lips.

_Jackpot._

Plucking a blue satin zippered bag out of the bottom drawer, he opened it and used the scalpel blade to shift its contents about. Ivory liquid foundation wasn’t white greasepaint, but it would do.

_Lipstick, check, plenty of goodies ... excellent – didn’t wanna risk going into my old cell for Alice’s makeup. I wonder if it’s still there._

With a shrug, he pocketed the makeup bag, closed the drawers, and faced the hall in front of the nurse’s station counter, listening carefully for any human movement.

He knew Callahan hadn’t moved, he could hear the man’s chair squeaking – but killing him would be boring. It’d be more fun to have someone ask him how a nurse disappeared on his watch, with bloody water all over her workstation.

Twirling the scalpel in his fingers like a miniature baton, Joker set out to explore.

The location of Dr. Tanner’s office was an unknown, a scrap of information Helen hadn’t been privy to. With Dr. Arkham allegedly taking over the Joker’s case and removing him from solitary, that should have left only one active case on Dr. Tanner’s clipboard: the stereo, whose screams currently had been silenced.

Purely out of curiosity, he went hunting for that cell, hoping it might yield some results in the form of the doctor, or at least one of his thugs.

Arkham Asylum’s relatively new solitary wing on one of the sub-basement levels was laid out like a wheel with twelve spokes. Two of the spokes comprised the long hallway which bisected the hub and connected the outer ring hall to the rest. Inside the round hub was the nurse’s station and security center on one side, with the treatment room and dispensary on the other.

The white tiled hygiene chamber he’d been hosed down in, part of the treatment room, was situated roughly behind his former cell. The plumbing for this level was centered there and it had been those pipes that allowed him to hear his neighbor’s screams.

_Stands to reason, he’s just one spoke of the wheel over._

Taking the right side of the central hall, away from the security guard, he turned left when he reached the outer ring. On his left, the first door to appear had been the one he’d been locked up behind. He peeked through the narrow glass to see the cell door down the short interior hall. The hall was brightly lit, but the cell, sealed and empty, was dark.

Walking on to the next door, he stopped. The cell at the end of this hall was bright and through its window, he could catch just a glimpse of a gaunt young man sprawled on the bunk.

Grinning when he heard welcome footsteps down the hall, approaching from the direction he’d been heading in, Joker dropped the scalpel into his pocket blade down and lifted two fingers to his throat. Toying with the wire there as if nervously worrying a necklace, he continued to stare into the window. Head leaning forward, he let the dark curls hide his face.

The footsteps were heavy, the stride long.

_It’s a member of the good doctor’s brute squad; doesn’t matter which one, they’re interchangeable idiots._

“Greta, that you? What’re you doing?”

Without speaking, Joker raised a finger and pointed it at the glass.

“What’s wrong? Is that fool choking again?” He barreled up without really looking at the nurse.

Joker stepped back to give him access to the window. The moment the man turned his back to him and bent lower to see through it, Joker yanked the wire out and tossed it over his head. Cinching it tight in one fist, he pressed the scalpel blade against the pulse hammering in the thick throat. The man began to curse, but the blade cut in a little, convincing him to fall silent.

“I’m Brenda,” Joker whispered in his ear. “Greta had to go downstairs. Make a noise any louder than this and I’ll leave you here to stain the tiles; well, worse than they are already.”

“The guard –”

“Callahan? Don’t be silly. Where’s Dr. Tanner?”

“In his office.”

“Where, uh, might that be?”

“Ten floors up – lot of traffic up there, freak.”

“Uh-hmm, I imagine. There’s about to be a lotta traffic where I’m going, too. Let’s take a walk, Slappy. By the way, which bull are you?”

“George.”

“Ooo, bully for me – I’d have guessed right!”

“How’d you get out of the Citadel?”

“First, we’re going back to the nurse’s station, and then I’ll show you. Deal?”

Making him walk bent over, Joker marched him off. He was far too heavy to drug and drag, and he wanted to bring him down to the Citadel alive.

They reached the mess of the nurse’s station and the sharp intake of breath as he took it all in was quite satisfying.

“You killed her?”

“No, no no no – she’s downstairs.”

“You’re wearing ... part of her damn head.”

“Hmm ... good point. Move the coat rack, would you?”

The club swung at his hip, attached to his belt. Hand and leg cuffs with chains dangled there, too.

_No gun, but still – it’s almost like Christmas!_

Staring at the propped opening, he muttered, “That wasn’t there before.”

“Sure? Actually, it’s been here longer than you have, Georgie Porgie. Go on ahead – see where it goes, mmm?”

The man’s back and shoulders tensed as he opened the cut in the wall and Joker got ready for an eight second ride. One foot stepped into the tunnel, then the other. Joker tossed the scalpel onto the green tiles and let go of the wire, snatching the club off his belt before he could turn to grab or punch.

As George began to turn, he brought the club up and smashed it into his forearm. The sound of at least one of the bones breaking was music to his ears, accompanied by the harsh shout of pain. Stumbling backward inside the tunnel, George slipped on the wet stone and went down like an ox.

“Careful,” Joker warned, “that first step two feet to your left is a doozy.”

With huffing breaths, holding his arm and desperate to get away, the man rolled to his right – and slid feet first straight down the long stairway. His yelp of horror echoed as Joker turned to pick up the scalpel and wire.

Peering down after the orderly, he giggled. “Oops, that should’ve been, ‘to your right’ – my bad.”

Humming a fractured jaunty tune, he hung the wire around his neck and returned the scalpel to its case in his pocket. He lingered, half hoping Callahan would come to investigate, but he was disappointed.

From below, his slide momentarily checked, the new toy groaned.

“Comiiing, Georgiiie,” he called in a singing lilt as he closed the opening and locked it securely.

His hand grasping the railing, Joker began the slow climb back down. Roughly every twenty steps, the goon’s weight would allow him to stop his sliding fall. Each time the Joker reached him, he gave him a sharp prod with a white shoe to send him off again.

Now and then, something was knocked off the man’s belt and so he cleaned up after him some – happily looping the chains with the cuffs over one shoulder as he counted each step all the way down.

The final prod sent George careening over the last ten steps – but he had a soft landing.

Shaken, battered and bloody, he gasped out, “What the fuck ... is that?”

“You should thank Nurse Greta for breaking your fall, Georgie.”

“She’s dead!”

“Is she? Oh, well, not that surprising, I suppose; tiny thing like that probably smacked that wall pretty hard, hmm? Or broke her neck on the way down. Don’t worry, she wouldn’t have felt it.”

“I’m gonna kill you, freak!”

“You’re welcome to try – but if you wanna live, you’ll behave.”

“You ain’t letting me live; you’re lying.”

Joker let out a huff of breath. “Why is it that everyone assumes the insane are incapable of honesty? It’s not true, you know. Then again, I’m uh, not insane. I’ll understand if you find that hard to believe at the moment, though.”

“What is this hole?”

“An access tunnel, originally constructed as a way for service workers to come and go. As I said, it’s been here longer than you have. Get up, Georgie Porgie. Poor Greta isn’t the last stop on our little trek into the bowels of Arkham.”

“Dr. Tanner ... the other guys...”

“Yes, cupcake?”

“They’re gonna get you...”

“Oh, I hope so. It’ll make things so much simpler for me if they try – less fun, but simpler.”

“How’d you get into these tunnels – hell, you didn’t get transferred, somebody sprung you out! Who did it?”

“Can’t tell, no no... Suffice to say, sweetheart – I have friends in ... weird places.”

~ ~ ~

When he finally collapsed on the bed in the holding cell, nude and dripping from a quick spray down, the next round of pain medication and amphetamines had him amped and ready to play with his pet bat.

George had been made comfortable – in a straitjacket, locked up in a small holding pen the size of a closet attached to the treatment room. It had dubious air holes leading into the tunnel and while it could be accessed from the treatment room, it was also hidden, soundproofed, and undetectable.

 _Uncle Arkham must have wanted to keep some of his patients a bit longer than the law allows._ Grinning, Joker stretched and turned over to breathe the fading scent of the bat on the sheets. _It’s nearly midnight – time to romp with the flying rodent._

He’d decided against playing as Brenda, even without the curls. The uniform and handmade wig were hanging in the director’s closet, with the delicious little panties stuffed in one skirt pocket.

As for the woman who had provided Brenda’s hair, Joker had gone back to fetch her, propping her up next to the goon in the little cell – so she could keep him company.

Laughing at his screamed curses, he had been even more delighted that he couldn’t hear them once the secret door was shut and locked. He’d strolled back into the director’s closet to shed Brenda, borrowed the man’s shower stall in the small bathroom, and returned to his cell in the nude.

The metal sliding noise of the slot disrupted his thoughts. “Joker?” the nurse called, hesitant and nervous.

Eyes closed, he sighed. “Yes, dearest?”

“I just got a call from the main switchboard operator; she said my visitor cancelled, but I’m to monitor my patient’s recovery and let him know when Dr. Arkham arrives. That has to be ... him, the Batman ... right? It’s a message – that’s he’s ... not coming...”

One white fist knotted slowly, growing tighter … and tighter.

~ ~ ~

The Joker stood in the treatment room, using bobby pins to secure the hat again to the brunette curls. He’d laid the goon’s club next to his scalpel on the wheeled metal instruments table.

There was a small hand mirror there, too and he picked it up to check his freshly made up face. Greta’s scarlet lipstick curled over his mouth and scars, her gray and brown eye shadow blended around his eyes. The color felt better than the lacey silk he wore under his skirt and allowed him to feel more like himself than he had in months under this pile of rotting stones.

Satisfied that he was presentable, he set the mirror down and went to open the hidden panel door in the wall. Knocking the female corpse out of the way, he dragged his captive out by the straps on the straitjacket.

“What the hell are you doing? Sonovabitch, lock me up with a dead woman! Hey! Wait a minute, fuck!”

“Stand up,” Joker ordered. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

“You broke my fucking arm, freak!”

“I’m quite aware – might break the other one if you don’t stand up.”

Hauling on the straitjacket to assist him, Joker pushed him over onto the table the moment he got on his feet. Strapping his ankles down first, he grabbed the scalpel in one hand. When the man fought to sit up, he pressed the blade to his jugular.

“Ah, ah, ah – be good, Georgie Porgie. Gonna take the straitjacket off so that Helen can look at your arm, hmm? Helen ... sweet pea? Come here, please.”

The door opened and Helen came in, pale and trembling.

“Helen, come on,” George pleaded, “you have to help me; he’s a whack job...”

“Go ahead and help, dearest – I need the jacket off.”

Pressing the scalpel in a little the moment she got the thing off, Joker used his other hand to press the man down onto his back. Securing his good arm by the wrist, he brought the chest strap over, bending and pinning the broken arm under it.

Smiling at the scream of pain, Joker set the scalpel next to the club and strapped down the wrist of the broken arm. “We’re gonna play twenty questions, Georgie – actually I don’t have twenty but I might think of more after we start. I think it’s important not to be too attached to a detail like that, don’t you? Ready?”

“Gonna kill you, you fucking crazy bastard!”

“Now, now – that’s no way to speak to a lady. Might wanna save your breath for your answers.”

“Helen, for God’s sake – he’s wearing Greta’s head! You’ll be next, you know it. Help me!”

The nurse’s voice was mostly calm now – she was hiding her fear well - tucked under her hatred. “You work for Dr. Tanner,” she told him, “and you obey him. You like how cruel he is to people and you enjoy that he lets you abuse them if you want to. Why would I help any of you?”

Giggling, Joker placed one hand over the crooked and livid lump of the break in the man’s forearm. “Ready or not, here ... we ... go! When I was being ‘treated’, the shocks – what happened? I wanna know everything. Who did and said what, how it all went down. Yes?”

“You don’t remember…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s an incorrect answer.” Watching his face, Joker squeezed the break, laughing when he screamed. “Then again, I didn’t explain the rules, did I? Hmm... Well, see, you uh, need to answer my questions directly and thoroughly. Otherwise, I’m gonna hurt you. When I get bored with this, I have the scalpel – and your club. Didn’t say I didn’t remember it, I know bits and pieces. Thing is, you don’t know which pieces, do you – so I’d be honest if I were you; wouldn’t wanna get caught in a lie. Now – are you ready? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

The man was silent for a moment of wide-eyed shock. Then he began to babble, and of course, none of it was his fault.

Typically, he didn’t remember half of what Dr. Tanner had said and none of them would be able to give him what had happened in his head as he’d lain there being torched. The more he thought about that, the angrier he felt. Curling his fingers, he gouged them into the arm again.

“It’s the truth, I swear, please! Holy shit ... please...”

“Oh, shh, shh, there now...” Moving to the tray, he picked up the club. “Remember all the times you struck me with this? Some of those times, I was coming at you, granted, but others...”

The eyes narrowed, turned hard and cold. “If you’re gonna kill me, do it – I’m done begging.”

Joker glanced at the nurse. “He’s done begging, sweet pea – does that sound like a challenge to you?”

“Joker, I...” She started to turn away.

“Watch – or be next, as predicted.” Smiling when she faced him again, hands covering her mouth, he flipped brunette curls to his back. “There we go, good girl.”

Slapping the club in his palm, he moved down to the man’s legs. Two pairs of eyes watched him in fear and horror.

“Joker, stop, wait,” George muttered.

“Call me Brenda, would you? I got all pretty again just for you, you know.”

The man didn’t respond to that, his eyes flicking over to the nurse as tears gathered in them.

“Normally, I have a mind like a steel trap ... ‘til you boys came along. Alas, I can’t remember each spot you hit me with this vile stick. Our surroundings were quite varied, though: while I was on the hygiene room floor, strapped on a gurney, or halfway passed out on the floor of my cell... You see the pattern, hmm? Anyway, I suppose I’ll have to guess. Was it ... here?”

Bringing the short billy club down on one strapped ankle, he smirked at the ringing scream.

“So you say you were the one who brought him the ECT machine outta the dispensary and storage room? Did it titillate you, what he was gonna do to me?”

“No,” he whispered. “The nurse, that blonde bitch – she couldn’t wait for it. I could ... bring her ... give her to you ... if you...”

Joker giggled again and struck the other ankle harder. “Sorry, Georgie, but I don’t need you for that; I’ll get dear Alice myself. I’ll get all of ‘em ... even the doctor.”

The nurse spoke up just as he raised the club a third time. “What if Batman comes back after all? We wouldn’t know it in here.”

Turning to face her, Joker stroked his fingers up and down the club as a lewd smile stretched his lips. _She doesn’t want to watch when push comes to shove; might feel differently when it’s the doctor’s turn, or Alice, but not the mindless goons. Pointless mission, of course – he sent that message via the switchboard to make damn sure I knew he wasn’t coming back. Still, he might ... just not tonight. Let the itch get under his skin, let that bat dick get hungry, and then we’ll see._ Rejected anger soothed a bit at the thought, he relented. “Fine, fine – go keep an eye peeled. If the outer door rattles, let me know first and then stall him, yes?”

“Yes ... Brenda.” She turned immediately for the door.

Joker laughed, delighted. “Good girl – you’re getting the hang of this game, aren’t you? How ‘bout you, Georgie?”

Getting back to the matter at hand, he smashed the club into the man’s shins with quick strikes, fracturing one and breaking the other. Howling with him when he cried out, he hit him again, higher, blowing out a knee. Joker sighed then and paused, the tip of the now blood-spattered club tapping lightly over the man’s groin.

“Tell me, Slappy, do you have a lady friend? Or a boyfriend, a goat – whatever; I won’t judge.”

“W-w-wife,” he stuttered, gasping and screaming again.

“Really? What does she think of you torturing people for a living? Or – lemme guess – you don’t talk about work at the dinner table.” Joker smiled down at him. “I think I’ll spare the twig and giggleberries, for now, anyway – might kill you too quick. How ‘bout some blunt force trauma to the torso? Break the other arm? You pick. No? Was that a no? Very well, allow me.”

“S-stop...”

“Stop? That’s a command, not begging. Go ahead and beg, huh?”

“No ... no ... won’t...”

“Well, well – I’m impressed. I pick ... torso. You kept smacking my back, but I can’t reach that, so chest and gut it is.”

“K-kill you...”

“You want me to kill you? Let’s not be hasty, cupcake. Eventually, sure, happy to oblige – but if I kill you now, I’ll have nothing else to do. I can’t go hunting again ‘til morning, all the prey is on day shift.” He gave the patient a sad little frown. “You understand, don’t you?”

“You ... filthy fucking ... freak...”

Joker moved closer. “Speak up a bit, Georgie, hmm? You’re fading a little, aren’t you?”

Disappointment turning his painted smile into a pout, he tsk-tsked with a shake of his head; the man was finished before they’d even begun.

“Never know what a person can take. Look at Two-Face, dear Harvey Dent. He runs around with a hole in his face and most of it parboiled, yet he still has the gumption to get outta bed in the morning and kill people. Gotta admire that work ethic. Meanwhile, you – happy to beat a man when he’s down – can’t take half the licking you and your friends gave me. I hope the others are more game than you, or this is gonna feel like a pretty half-assed revenge.”

“Batman ... you said...”

“Oh, yes – if I was honest with you, I’d admit that he’s the reason I’m gonna kill you. He should be here now, for our nightly visit, but he said wasn’t coming back. He agreed to visit, understand, in return for secrets given. That’s a, uh, contract. Nothing in writing, though – perhaps that was a mistake. Can’t sue him for breach of contract with nothing in writing; I’ll just have to breach him – if he ever shows his prude masked face here again.”

Looking down, he clucked his tongue. The man’s eyes had slid shut, the lips moving in a senseless and wordless babble.

“Do you want me to stop, Georgie? Tell me again, cupcake, and I will. Do you want me to?”

“Y-yes...”

“All right, okay, don’t worry...” Moving to the instrument table, he traded the bloody club for the scalpel. Holding it in his teeth, he started to undo the man’s belt and lower the zip on his pants.

The eyes flew open when his hand reached in and pushed underwear out of the way to grasp both the dick and the scrotum. He let them fall from his hand, exposed, limp, and defenseless.

Regaining his smile as he pulled his tool free from his mouth, Joker poked at them once with the handle of the scalpel.

“Do you think your wife’ll miss ‘em? Maybe I should mail ‘em to her?”

“Don’t ... please...”

“Oh, now you beg – for these? No offense, but I’d have begged for something a bit more impressive, like your knees and shins. Screw mobility over being a maaan, hmm? I was kidding ‘bout mailing ‘em, though – I’m trying to keep a low profile, in case Batty does come back.”

“J-joker, wait...”

Slapping the flat of the blade on the dick, enjoying the lurch of the body, he frowned. “What did I tell you? See the pretty brown curls? Try again, cupcake – say my name.”

“B-brenda...”

“Got it in two – you people are slow around here, you know that?”

“Tanner –”

“Oooo, yes? Something juicy ‘bout the Doc? Gimme...”

“Office.”

“Oh, cupcake, I’m sorry – knowing where his office is, that’s almost useless to me. I’m gonna catch him on the job, like you.”

Picking up the scrotal sack, he gripped one of the testicles in his hand and fisted his fingers, crushing the delicate organ. Satisfied when the screams and howls echoed, the body bucking against the straps, he released the mess and bruised skin only to grip the remaining one in his hand.

“Do you think Mrs. Porgie will miss the rest of you? I tend to doubt it. You like to hit people, after all; I bet she’ll be happier without you. For the record, this one’s for the time you clubbed me in the kidneys while I was almost comatose on the hygiene room floor – that, I do remember.”

Cackling with glee, he crushed the other testicle. Without pause, he brought the blade in and held the flaccid penis up straight.

“Fuck you ... dirty ... freak...” the man muttered, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Joker frowned. “I won’t tell you again, Georgie – the name is Brenda.” With a twist of his hand, the blade did its work.

~ ~ ~

Opening the door into the foyer, Joker wandered into the nurse’s station to find Helen in the chair behind the desk. She looked up at him, her eyes widening when she saw the dripping scalpel in his hand.

“Is he…?”

“Pointless question, hmm? Is? Going to be? Sooner or later, hopefully later.”

Sighing, he perched a hip on the corner of her desk, the small blade dripping onto a calendar there.

“I cauterized what was left with the good doctor’s lighter, rolled him off, and stuffed him back in the closet with Greta. So far, he’s still sort of alive.”

“Are you going to dump them –?”

“Where and how? In the tunnel? I don’t need the tripping hazard. No, no, they can stay right where they are.”

“Okay ... but where will you put the others when you catch them?”

Smirking, Joker stabbed the scalpel into the desk calendar and started pulling bobby pins from the wig.

“In the same spot; nothing like a little company when you’re locked up in the dark – it’s very comforting.”

He took off the wig and tossed it to her. She caught it awkwardly, trying to touch nothing but the hair.

Bit by bit, he began to strip off Brenda and left her draped over the desk. Once he was nude, amused at how she tried not to look, he pulled the scalpel out of the calendar and walked to the door.

“Put Brenda away for me and mop up in there, hmm? I’m ... tired.”

“You’re crashing. How many of those pills did you take?” When he ignored the question, she changed tactics. “Do you want food? I recommend it.”

“In a few hours, yes – I wanna get some sleep before morning.”

“You knew he wouldn’t come, didn’t you?”

“Tonight, yes. He’ll be back; he won’t be able to help himself.”

“Will you catch Dr. Tanner soon?”

“Hope so, sweet pea – gonna watch if it’s him on the slab?”

“I’ll ... try. Brenda is ... almost more frightening than the Joker.”

“Aww, darling, I’m gonna take that as a compliment. Wake me before dawn with breakfast, hmm? After all, Brenda will need time to get pretty for her date with the Doc.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the reason for the extreme violence tags! It won’t get any less violent from here, I’m afraid, where Joker’s revenge is concerned. I imagine I don’t need to point out that the Cheshire Cat is a character from Lewis Carroll’s "Alice in Wonderland", having already made quite a few “Alice” references and jokes in this story. Same same the "Wizard of Oz", I have a habit of referencing them both in my snarky dialogue. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	10. Come Undone

You could’ve been the real one  
You could’ve been the one enough for me  
You could’ve been the free one (the broken down and sick one)  
Remnant of a vacant life

You come around when you find me faithless  
You come around when you find me faceless  
Fuck me like you hate me (dig it up, tear it down)  
Dig it up and whore me out  
Fuck me like you hate me (dig it up and tear it down)  
I love the sound when you come undone

You could’ve been the next one (God only knows)  
You could’ve been the one to comprehend me  
You could’ve been the only one (the broken down and sick one)  
You could’ve been the one who I lie with

You come around when you finally face this  
You come around when you find me faceless  
Fuck me like you hate me (dig it up, tear it down)  
Dig it up and whore me out  
Fuck me like you hate me (dig it up and tear it down)  
Don’t make a sound ‘til I come undone

You’ll never break me  
You’ll never break me  
You’ll never break me

You could’ve been the real one  
You could’ve been the last one I’d lie with  
You could’ve been the owned one  
I should’ve been the one who died

Fuck me like you hate me (you’ll never break me)  
Fuck me like you hate me (dig it up, tear it down)  
You’ll come around when you find me faceless

~ FMLYHM (Seether)

*****************************************************************

Something woke him, something far too subtle to be the nurse. It moved against his skin like smoke leaking out of his dreams. With a start that sluiced away muzzy sleep with a shot of adrenaline in his blood, he felt the focused and hostile stare.

“Been there long?” Joker stretched, but remained prone on the rumpled bed.

The memory that he’d opted to scrub the makeup off, just in case – since the bat responded better to his naked face – made him irritable. Then his blood warmed at the sound of the low hum under the voice as the shadow spoke from the table he was perched on.

“You heard me come in, even in your sleep; you can’t turn that off.”

“Yes, well, some things weave themselves into my skull and end up part of a dream instead of getting categorized properly as here-and-now input.”

“Why is it you always insist you’re not insane?”

“Ha ha. Hyper-aware to the point of overload at times does not crazy make. My philosophies, goals, etc. are all legitimate; if Joe and Jane Doe call ‘em ‘draconian’, that’s not my problem, is it?”

“Most call you ‘psychopath’ and ‘terrorist’.”

“No vision.” Joker sighed. “Try to save ‘em and they just don’t appreciate all the work involved... Well, silly me, you know all about that. You try to save ‘em from me and Harvey; I wanna save ‘em from a dying and polluted system – and they just run around wringing hands and clutching babies, don’t bother to thank any of us. Sheep are too simple to see the big picture; if they could, they’d be wolves – just like us.”

“What about the orderly? What you did to him would classify you as insane.”

“Charlie? He was your fault, Batty – I told you to come back, or else – he was the ‘else’.”

“Why him?”

“In a place like this, one can’t be too choosy. I’d have preferred a challenge, but he was nearly the only option on the menu, unfortunately. He was easy and uh, quite boring.”

“He was harmless – why was he easy?”

“Harmless?” Joker winked at him. “Bet you’ve changed that estimation. He suffered from a grab bag of neuroses, most of ‘em mild to severe phobias. Luckily for me, coulrophobia wasn’t in the mix. Although, I’ve gotten a few ‘fear of clowns’ cases to do odd jobs for me before – it’s all in how you draw ‘em in.”

“How do you do that?”

Wagging a finger at him, Joker admonished, “Ah, ah – what did I tell you about getting hard-won secrets for free?”

“So what did the orderly suffer from?”

He flicked his tongue over his lips as he recalled the top of the list. “Gymnophobia, genophobia and, uh, traumatophobia, primarily.”

“So you stripped, raped, and cut him.”

“Exposure therapy – very effective. He had a few others, but there aren’t many bridges in Arkham, or dogs, worms... What?”

“Therapy? It was torture!”

“Tomay-to, toma-to. How ‘bout you, Bats – got any entertaining fears? Fear of not getting there in time, perhaps? Wonder what they’d name that ... chronoslowmotophobia?”

The glower on the masked face darkened. “Enjoying the pain and death of others is psychotic.”

“Wrong. You make a better Holmes than a Freud. Psychosis is merely the state of being out of touch in one way or another with reality. My uh ... enjoyments ... were deemed the product of antisocial personality disorder, the new PC term for a sociopath. Trouble is, it’s nothing but more labels, hmm? I can slip in and out of any label they try to slap on me. Fact is, like it or not, these fools in white coats simply don’t have a classification yet for what I am – and they’ve only scratched the surface of what I’ve chosen to show ‘em.”

“Why do you want to die?”

“Did I say I did?”

“I’ve nearly killed you often enough to see a pattern; you always look delighted – right before I stop.”

With a languid smile, Joker pillowed his cheek on folded arms. “Mmm... Call me a thrill junkie.”

“Dr. Wilson called it ‘suicidal tendencies’.”

“The esteemed Dr. Wilson isn’t around anymore and therefore unable to support, or further report on, his exciting and career-making theories.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No, no, how very plebeian. He’s here – locked up – like so many of his highly respected peers. Don’t bother trying to find him to pelt him with questions ‘bout me, either; he doesn’t know who he is these days, and if you mention me, he’ll only start screaming. Tragic, really.”

“That just means you drove him insane instead. I told you I read his file on you.”

“The file in Dr. Tanner’s office upstairs?”

“Yes.”

Joker tsk-tsked at him, shaking his head. “Poor Lamb Chop – you’ve been clinging to that sad little clutch of notes, haven’t you? Like it’s the answer to ... me.”

Grinning at the shadow of doubt on that angry and disgusted face, he licked his lips and worked to school his expression into something more sympathetic.

“Did you notice how wide and battered the file folder is, yet how few papers were stored in it?”

The glare was priceless. “Where is the rest of it?”

Joker shrugged. “How should I know? When they committed Dr. Wilson, it was already a shell of its former file. Maybe he ate it all.”

He winked at the bat and then clicked his tongue at him when he slumped a little in his vulture pose on the table.

“Aww, cheer up, precious – you can always do all that exhaustive research again from scratch to get your answers. After all, you’ve found a way to get me to talk more freely than those fools ever managed.”

Joker grasped the edge of the covers and pulled them down, displaying his naked body as he reposed on his belly. Shifting over a little, he patted the spot beside him.

The shadow moved, but only to go to the door. “I came back to prove to myself I could stop. Whatever sick hold you thought you had on me ... it’s broken now.”

“Come over here and say that, hmm? Better yet, let me touch you ... then see if you can still say it.”

“I won’t let you soil me any further.”

“Oh, I do enjoy how you think those little barbs will insult me. It’s so kick-sand-on-playground – quite boyishly charming, you know.”

“Goodbye, Joker.”

“It’s just a couple hours before dawn, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

In the act of turning away, the bat paused, his shoulders stiff. “What difference does it make, in here?”

“Difference? The fact that you waited ‘til nearly dawn to come here, to tell me you’re through, that my ‘hold’ is broken? The difference is, precious, you’ve deliberately left almost no time for yourself to fall from grace in. I’m surprised you didn’t wait for the newspaper hucksters to start crowing, just to hedge your bets. I’m curious, though – did you think I wouldn’t try to make you fall? This is your timetable, not mine. I’m not the one who flees from the sun.”

Joker rose. Knowing his nudity would spur the bat to leave, he slowly pulled on the orange pants that hung on the footboard pipe. Watching the shadow as the creature stared back, he moved across the cell to lean against the table edge, his hands gripping it.

“You still need ... desperately.” His tongue flicked, almost able to taste the heady tension between them. It was intoxicating. “Go now if you can believe your lie, that you’re free of this.”

“It’s not a lie. Dr. Arkham will be here in less than a week and this sick ... debauchery ... is finished.”

“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be – I give you the secrets of your subconscious dilemma and you think it’s all over, hmm? Because ‘knowledge is power’? Guess again, precious – knowing may be half the battle but you’ve still got one helluva fight on your hands and what ails you won’t give up easily. It’s not me you’re fighting, either – it’s yourself. No running away from that.”

“I’ll solve it alone.”

Joker couldn’t stop the smile that stretched his lips. “Alone – even though I can provide a far more satisfying game of ‘punch the clown’ right here and now?” Drawing a deep breath, he sobered. “A creature like you should never have to do that, you know.”

The Batman was silent, haunted eyes already warming; the longer he waited, the further he’d tilt.

Joker lowered his head and slowly looked up from under his ragged hair. _The fall is inevitable; all it’ll take is a little ... push._ “Did you notice, my sweet lamb? You’re still here.”

“This has to stop...”

“It will – when it has run its course. Go now and find the world as empty as you left it. Hard, cold ... ugly and perverse.”

“Everything I’ve known here.”

“Ah, but here, you don’t have to be alone.”

“You are insane.”

“I’m as insane as you are. What waits for you out there? Don’t you see? If there was anything, even the palest shadow of what you once reached for, you never woulda let me touch you.”

“You’re the reason there’s nothing left.”

“That’s a lie, precious, and you know it. She chose Harvey. I – I spared you having to watch ‘em together! There, that – the pain in those dark eyes refutes the next lie gathering on your tongue. You’d already been tortured by it, hadn’t you? I stopped it; I ... spared you that pain.”

“No, you’re wrong. She was going to wait for me – wait until Gotham didn’t need Batman anymore. Harvey was going to take his place! Harvey was ... and then she... She promised...”

“Shh ... shh ... shh... Oh, I’d be very careful just now were I you, darling. The pretty and successful lawyer was gonna wait for her city park janitor in shining armor to fold up his cape and settle down? Harvey was gonna take ‘his’ place? You’re starting to sound like you belong here.”

He paused, but the stunned flying rodent said nothing; perhaps he knew how close he had just come? Dear Rachel might have a short list of former beaus, after all.

“I’ll give you one for free, Batty – I’m the guy you’ll regret giving away clues and secrets to, in case you’ve forgotten. Also, it’s all a moot point ... she’s dead and Harvey’s a new man – two, in fact. You’ll just have to keep being ‘him’ for now, whoever you are – for Gotham, if not for me.”

“Yes ... and out there, I fight for this city. Yet here, with you ... this is wrong – it’s ... sick.”

“Labels won’t save you, sweetheart, they won’t. They’ll choke you to death.”

“Stop ... please.”

“Come here, my lamb – you have to convince me you don’t need me to save you. Lemme taste the lie on your tongue. If it tastes like truth, I will stop. I’ll leave you to your fate.”

“I can’t. It has to end.”

“Prove it.” Lifting his arm, he held out the hand, palm up. “Come to me...” He watched the gauntlets tighten into fists and licked his lips. “Strike me if you need that, too; I’ve ached to feel your hate, such delicious pain – but come.”

The shadow moved between one sharp breath and the next, advancing like a man sent to the gallows. The Joker didn’t reach out farther, forcing him to cross the cell, to slip hard and cold fingers into his.

Grasping them, he pulled him in close. The bat’s breathing was short and sharp as lust rose, coursing in his flesh, sharpening it as well. Bringing their lips together, just a strangled gasp apart, Joker smiled, slow and soft.

“Gimme your lie, precious ... please.”

His desperate kiss bent the Joker’s torso back over the table, the clasped fingers pulling free so that the arms could circle and crush.

As soon as he could tear his mouth away, Joker whispered a question against the parted and hungry lips.

“What do you want, my lamb? You need my touch but tell me how you want it. Don’t be afraid – shame and guilt are mere lies the broken and rotting world has poisoned you with. Tell me ... whisper... What is your desire? Should I take you into my mouth, let my throat caress you? Come, precious, no need to hesitate; whatever it is, it’s already yours for the asking – for the taking.”

“No... You ... your body...”

“Release yourself, darling... Oooh, yes, it’s yours, just for you, but you have to...”

The arms relinquished their painful grip and the Joker’s hands moved, guiding the hard fingers as they opened the armor. Long pale fingers reached in, freed the swollen and aching cock, and stroked it. The broken sound at his ear slid into his blood, his bones.

“You’ve sparked a need in me, too, precious – do you know that? The world is truly a rotting husk, but now I ache to save it again. Before you, I was lost, no hope of an equal to vie and strain against – a dark light to match my bright dark. Without you, I just don’t know how I could stay the course ... and now, to save Gotham’s wounded soul, I first have to save yours.”

Before the bat could speak, he claimed his mouth again, firing need into a poisonous passion that could choke and injure – if it wasn’t fed.

This time, the bat broke the kiss, only to duck his head and set his teeth to pale skin where neck and shoulder met. They bit down on the edge of a mottled blue bruise and the Joker gasped, rising on the balls of his feet to push into the pain.

“Don’t wait, darling, no no no – take what you need in the form that you want; do it now.”

Growling, the teeth let go, the hands gripping his shoulders. Joker gave the thing in his hand a final squeeze and dropped it. As the bat hesitated again, he struggled to remain in control, his stomach knotting.

Leaning close to the mask, beside the open and shocked mouth, he murmured, “Use me...”

Strong hands turned him, shoving him over the table and down onto his belly. The fingers yanked at cotton prison clothes, almost tearing the pants.

With a grunt as the force of the manhandling nearly knocked the breath out of him, Joker asked, “Remember when you used to be shy?” He gasped and then laughed when the hands grew rougher. “I do. It was delicious, but this – this is exquisite.”

In the barest concession to decent treatment, he felt spit fall on his tailbone. A moment later, it was rubbed down into the crack of his ass. The alien feel of those gloves trying the tight muscle, slicking it up, always made his cock twitch and swell, even as it was trapped between his abdomen and the table.

“I’m the S, but also the M, darling – it’s sweet, but I’d take you dry in a heartbeat.” The silent desperation of the conflicted man behind him made him smile. “Do it, precious – it’s not a crime if I want you to.” The fingers moved, the thumbs spreading his cheeks wide – and then nothing. Frustrated lust drove a growl up his throat. “Come on, Bats, this ain’t our first dance – fuck me!”

A strangled groan met his crude words and the first strike of the heavy cock was followed by a gut-wrenching push. The fingers hadn’t worked the muscle open much and the pain set off fireworks in his vision.

“And they’re off,” he murmured, giving up on speech in favor of breathing after that. Once the bat was in, it was always a frantic race to finish, to be done and gone. _Gonna have to work on that_. _Can’t tweak his brains inside out if he won’t stick around for a cuddle._

Thrusting deep and rough, no longer shy or careful, the bat strove for release with a mindless abandon, though his strength and endowments more than made up for his lack of finesse.

When it ended, his only regret was that it had; presumably, the flying rodent had a few more regrets than that. Yet, to the Joker’s surprise, he didn’t latch up and escape the moment his cock slipped free.

Adopting again the soft seductive manner that had melted in their heat, he tried to lead the bat to the mattress but traded for sitting him down in the chair when he balked.

The man appeared to be stunned, or even going into shock. He watched with a wince as Joker hitched up the rumpled and now stained and wet orange pants.

Pulling himself up onto the table, he sat before the magnificent brute could realize he’d made him bleed. The feel of it and the lingering pain were delicious. He also had to sit on the urge to get some on his fingers and smear it, red and dripping, across those lips. The thought of making the bat lick it clean almost woke his cock up a little.

With a tiny shake of his head to rattle the fantasy out, he rested elbows on knees and bare feet on bat. Long toes toyed with and rubbed over the plates that protected the thighs, just close enough to the softening cock to remind him that he hadn’t locked the errant thing back up.

 _It’s tinged with a bit of red, too. Best that remains hidden, for now. Let him find it when he’s back – wherever he goes._ Joker smiled when the gauntlets moved and armor clicked – the man hadn’t had the guts to look down at it. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re quite hard-headed? Apart from the cowl, I mean.”

Head lowering, the bat muttered, “Did I hurt you?”

“Mmm, only a little. Most of that mess is my doing; you’re terribly yummy – fires me off without the need of helping hands.” Pursing his lips, his tongue zipped out to lick them a moment later. “What’s on your mind, precious?”

“You said you want to save Gotham – by destroying it?”

“Ever make a proverbial omelet without breaking the eggs? I don’t recommend it – too crunchy. Also, never let one of the schizophrenics in your employ do the cooking; now that’s good free advice, Batty.”

“Corruption can be changed. The city’s problems can be fixed without razing its laws to the ground.”

“Doubtful. Besides, uh, my way is faster.”

“I used to think you had no motive.”

“Hmm, I remember – but I did like your ‘watch the world burn’ observation. Call it method, though, not motive. We both want the same thing, you know – we just don’t agree on how to achieve our common goal.”

“I want to save the people of Gotham from men like you.”

“Well, I wanna save ‘em from men like Gordon and his crooked police force – from men like that tarnished but admittedly quick mayor, too.”

Glaring up at him, the bat growled. “Gordon’s a good man and not all of his officers are dirty.”

Under that hard gaze, Joker shivered, partly from the cold stale air on bare skin and partly from the vivid memory of how that smoldering rage could spark so fast into lust, violence, or if he was lucky – both.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t bash your little playground pal. I won’t – don’t have a brick handy, anyway.”

“You’re cold.”

Joker grinned. “Among other things, yes.”

“No, I meant... You’re shivering.”

The bat rose but before he could turn to fetch anything to remedy the problem, Joker caught his masked face between his hands and licked his smooth lips.

“I knew what you meant, darling; can’t resist having a bit of fun with you.”

“Don’t –”

“So hard-headed! Just kiss me, precious, that’s all I want.”

“You want me to stay; I can’t.”

“Actually, unless you want breakfast with the nurse and I, you do need to go. Wouldn’t wanna be in the middle of round two and have her wonder ‘bout the noises, hmm? Not her cup of sin, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t figure out what’s what.”

“It’s a little early for breakfast.”

“I have a busy day ahead; no hanging upside down in city park caves for me.”

The bat frowned. “Busy with what, from in here?”

“Plotting how to get out of here. Would you respect me anymore if I didn’t at least try?”

“I don’t respect you at all, I –”

Silencing him with a stolen kiss, Joker had the satisfaction of melting him again in no time flat. Pressing his forehead to the bat’s when he broke it, he smiled when he noticed the hard gloved hands actually resting on his hips with an amusing familiarity.

Drawing in a deep breath and letting it go as a wistful sigh, Joker whispered, “I don’t need your respect, precious. I need you out there – fighting the good fight.”

“Why?”

His confusion and conflicted emotions were delicious, but time was slipping away. Reluctant to skip on round two, leery that it might be a while if he got stubborn again, Joker freed himself and escaped.

Moving to the door, he peered through the glass and listened. “She’s up; that noise is the dumb waiter with the breakfast tray.” Turning his head slightly to gauge the bat’s reaction, he teased, “Gonna leave her the main door key and have her fetch latex supplies worthy of a squeamish gentleman?”

“No. Answer me, Joker.”

“I want you out there fighting so I’ll have someone to spar with when I do find a way out. We’re destined to try to not kill each other forever, remember?” Sighing again, he added, “This is the part where you threaten not to come back – go ahead.”

The Batman approached with a malevolent scowl on his mouth that matched the formed and permanent one that was a part of the mask. Stopping just short of the Joker’s taller, leaner frame, he glared at him.

“I’ll be back tonight. I am going to dig out what makes you tick, and once I do, I’ll use it against you.”

Joker turned to face him, his shoulder brushing the armored chest before he could lean his back against the door.

“Straightforward and brutally honest as usual. Sounds like fun, Lamb Chop – count me in. You might wanna go hang upside down in the park now, though – you’re bound to hit the red line on sleep deprivation before long.”

“Any weakness you can exploit in a pinch?” he responded, a challenge in the harsh humming tone.

“I think I’ve exploited you enough for the moment,” he replied, his hand sliding down to cup the sticky front of his distressed and filthy pants. He slid out of the way with a dark chuckle. “Off you go.”

The startled and then angry expression that quip won made him laugh as the bat tore the key from one of his little metal pouches – the third one over the left hip, in point of fact. The noise as the heavy door slammed shut and locked echoed in sonic ripples through the piled stones.

“Oh, precious,” Joker whispered, shaking his head as he leaned back against the door. “Soon you will fall even deeper. I do hope you won’t make it too easy for me – that would be a shame.”

He had heard the nurse’s steps before the echo of the bat’s retreat had faded; so she had seen him leave or at least heard the succession of doors he had slammed in his wake. Turning to speak to her through the window as she pushed the breakfast tray through, he chuckled.

“Curiouser and curiouser, sweet pea?”

The nurse shook her head in an emphatic negative. “I don’t want to know why he comes here or anything about what you two have to say to each other all damn night. I figure, the less my business it is, the safer I am.”

“Probably.” Taking the tray out, he turned his back on her. “Be in the treatment room in two hours, there’s a good girl.”

“What are you going to do?”

“It’s time for Georgie Porgie to face his greatest fears.”

“George is dead.”

Joker set the tray on the table. Looking over his shoulder at her silhouette in the window, he schooled his face into a mask of regret.

“Huh. I suppose he would be, by now. A shame, isn’t it – that you can only kill people once?” Adjusting his dick under the wet pants as he sat down to eat, he huffed out a breath. “I suppose I’ll just have to face his fears myself, won’t I?”


	11. Riddles of the Mind

There’s a chair in my head on which I used to sit  
Took a pencil and I wrote the following on it

Now there’s a key where my wonderful mouth used to be  
Dig it up, throw it at me  
Dig it up, throw it at me

Where can I run to, where can I hide  
Who will I turn to now I’m in a virgin state of mind

Got a knife to disengage the voids that I can’t bear  
To cut out words I’ve got written on my chair  
Like: Do you think I’m sexy?  
Do you think I really care?

Can I burn the mazes I grow  
Can I, I don’t think so

Where can I run to, where can I hide  
Who will I turn to now I’m in a virgin state of mind  
Virgin state of mind  
Virgin state of mind  
Virgin state of mind

~ Virgin State of Mind (K’s Choice)

*****************************************************************

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” Moving the scalpel in close to the dead man’s body, Joker paused just long enough to be sure the nurse was watching.

She swallowed hard. “I – I don’t know.”

Crouched close to the corpse where it lay on the floor of the treatment room, Joker cut neatly into the chest, making precise cuts to form a famous literary word.

With a smile, he whispered, “Poe writes on both.” Finishing, he glanced at it. “Is it legible? Go ahead, sweet pea, read it out.”

“Nevermore.”

“There’s my good girl. Okay – here goes nothin’...”

Whistling a jaunty tune, he moved the blade to the throat. Trying to keep one smooth cut going wherever possible, he slowly began to carve the face off, with the flap of neck skin and most of the scalp attached. Setting the scalpel down in a minimal mess of old blood, Joker started to half-mutter, half-sing his tune.

“If you’re happy and you know it, steal a face...”

The goon squad member formerly known as George was soon staring up at them, his face peeled away and held gingerly in the Joker’s hands.

“Darling, you look positively green with envy.” Clucking his tongue at the nurse, he attempted to reassure her. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you do the next one, if you want.”

When she broke and ran to be sick, his laughter burst out in her wake. The misshapen face trembled as it hung on his fingers, as if it was laughing, too.

“All the best jokes are lost on her,” he told it. “Tsk, tsk.”

Laying the face on the table, he dragged the corpse back to its hiding spot and stuffed it in over the body of the other nurse. Retrieving the face, he took it with him for a shower in Dr. Arkham’s office, and washed both of them clean. When he got out, grabbing a towel that had appeared on the rack, he whistled as he dried off.

Brenda waited for him on the black fainting couch like a patient, as patient as ever. Greta’s makeup had been set on the good doctor’s desk in front of a larger mirror on a folding stand. His pet nurse was nowhere to be seen, but clearly she was still trying to impress him with her usefulness.

Taking particular pleasure in applying the makeup, his only regret was the need to paint a woman’s face, rather than his own. His fingers twitched at the corners of his ruined mouth, stilling before they could run the scarlet lipstick up the jagged proud flesh of the scars.

When it was done, he leaned his chin on his palm and stared into the lie that was reflected back at him. Peering out from under ridiculous long lashes, bright chartreuse eyes were accented instead of blackened all around. They shined like mirrors themselves, impenetrable, far from windows to a soul. Functional only, the eyes were a tool as surely as the rest was – if they managed to haunt the bat, then yet another purpose would be accomplished.

He lifted his chin and glared at the mirror, tongue flicking out to taste a dead woman’s shade. It was time to bring to heel the man who had attempted to burn out the light behind those eyes.

As he drew on Brenda like a warm coat, he turned and blew a kiss to the mirror before heading upstairs through the tunnel to see what mischief he could stir to draw his prey.

In a pocket of the white skirt, the scalpel waited. In the other, the stolen face was tucked away – carefully and lovingly rolled like an old-fashioned scroll. The message there was unwritten, yet painfully clear.

~ ~ ~

Two different voices, hushed and agitated, were talking down the hall from the abandoned nurse’s station – guards, and not anyone he had to worry about. Their topic was about disappearances – two nurses, one orderly, and the most dangerous prisoner Arkham had ever housed.

_I hate to interrupt them – it sounds like a good story._

Following the next impulse, he sat in the chair in front of him. Someone had cleaned up Greta’s mess. Plucking the brunette curls from his head, he dropped them on the desk.

Carefully, touching it like a skinned lover, he took out and slid on the face. It tore a little at the back going over his wavy hair, but Greta’s curls would hold it securely. With the wig back in place, he palmed the scalpel level with his white-skirted thigh and kicked a drawer with the white shoe.

“What the hell was that?”

“Could be Irene – wasn’t she coming in?”

“Not much point, all we have left to guard is the screamer – the others are as comatose as ever.”

“Stay on post, I’ll check. If she’s still sick, I’m going to send her back home.”

Joker sagged in the chair and fell still, a corpse looking for a chalk outline, as footsteps came closer.

“Fucking hell! Irene? What the fuck is that?”

He rushed over to help and the little blade made a big mess when he leaned in to shake the nurse. The warm splash of blood from the gut wound baptized the skirt as pleasure spiked and hardened under it.

Joker rolled the writhing guard to the floor and rose, grabbing the club from the fellow’s belt as the other man came running. Smashing the club between the legs, he smiled behind the flesh he wore and watched the body crash to its knees and fall over.

“Good night, gents.”

Two more strikes to their skulls, and it was quiet once more – except for the distant screams of his old stereo, still locked in a cage.

 _I should let him out before I leave here. Perhaps … I should let ‘em all out. Hmm…_ Setting the club down on top of the desk, he found the alarm switch under it. _Come and play, Dr. Tanner._ He jabbed a finger into the button and retrieved the club.

With blood dripping from the mess on the skirt and the scalpel in his hand, he moved into the hall. The alarm was silent, but small red lights had begun to flash at intervals along the ceiling. Wherever the doctor was, he would know where he was needed.

Stepping carefully, the Joker went to the hygiene chamber connected to the treatment room near his old cell. Faithful as always, the plumbing gave him the echoes of the screams that had always soothed him. He pocketed the scalpel, tucked the handle of the club in his white belt, and grabbed up the hose – just in case the doctor brought along any of his dirty friends.

It was more guards first, brought by the silent alarm, but the hose knocked them higgly-piggly in short order. He shut it off and danced among them, whirling the club, as the world seemed to sink below the tuneless music screaming away in his ears through the pipes. Whacked unconscious, immobilized, or dead, he was soon surrounded by groaning, cursing, and twitching figures.

_Quite the tableau – the place never looked so good._

“Joker!”

A chuckle warbled up his throat as he spun and faced Dr. Tanner, staring at him through the eyeholes of loyal George. “Oopsie. Daddy’s mad.”

“My God!” the doctor cried out, as he stumbled back into a wall. “What have you done?”

“I’ve turned your borrowed little fiefdom into a veritable _Land of Cockaigne_ – Bruegel the Elder would be so proud. I would claim I worked so hard, but really, it was boringly easy. Still … do you like it? Be gentle.”

“Damn you to Hell!”

“Oh, I have missed you…” Spinning the club in his fingers, he skipped clear of the guards on the floor and stopped, cocking his head to one side at the doctor. “I think these old rocks may be Hell, don’t you? We’re just two fiends in the pit, doin’ what we do.”

“More guards are coming!”

“Tsk, tsk, we both know that’s a fib. The budget won’t hold many more than this – you’re runnin’ low.”

The long white coat was as spotless as ever and he looked the same, beyond dark circles under the eyes. His hands were raised, palms out, but there was more to be seen than the surface.

“Tie askew, belt undone, and the zip two inches lower than regulation demands. So I interrupted Nurse Alice – mmm, such a pity.” Hissing in eager delight, he took a step closer.

“Stay back!”

“No. You’re blocking my way out, Doctor. Let’s dance, shall we?”

He rested the club on his shoulder and began to step to one side, to drive the man from the door. As he went, he shook his head slightly to settle the eyeholes better over his sight. It had the desired effect of horrifying his prey into retreat.

Knowing his reputation preceded him, he also knew that this man wasn’t the type to stand bodily in the path to prevent an escape. Of course, escape wasn’t his goal – yet.

“You look exhausted, Doc. I can help you with that. When I’m gone, it all gets simpler.”

Driving the doctor far enough away from the door, his muscles tensed. Before the man could react, he leaped right at him.

Dr. Tanner stumbled over and into his guards, trampling on some of them before he lost his balance and pitched over backward to lie on both people and the floor.

The wet and grime from the dirty white tiles and blood from both the wounded and the dead smeared the perfect white coat until it was hard to determine where one filth ended and the other began.

Letting the club fall beside them, he wrapped his long fingers around the hated neck, pushing thumbs against the windpipe. Strong but frantic hands gripped his wrists, pulling with futile desperation.

“Others will come,” he struggled to threaten, “so will the police. Run while you can.”

“I have a better idea. You’ve shown me such a good time, how could I go before returning the favor?”

He tightened his grip to hurry things along and watched with glee as the man’s eyelids fluttered, the mouth falling slack as the hands loosened on his wrists.

Rising, he clapped his hands before reaching down for the club and tucking it in his belt at his back. Glancing around at the human devastation, he laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles.

_Time to clean up._

Joker moved to the edge of the groaning mess and bent again to grasp a guard’s wrist and haul him off toward the doorway. He dropped dead ones over live ones to hold them down until he could fish out the good doctor. After tugging his unconscious prize across the floor into the hall, he looked up at the nearest cell door.

The next delicious impulse hit him in the gut and spread, warm and savory, through him. Screaming away in another cell, his stereo inspired him to drop the doctor’s arm. Lifting his hands and moving them as if he held a conductor’s baton, his body began to sway.

_Oh, yes – delightful, and such fun for all. In fair Verona, where we lay our scene…_

Joker pushed up imaginary sleeves and got to work, just in case any wayward law enforcement did happen by – if any were left who gave a damn.

~ ~ ~

Nurse Helen was pacing in the Citadel treatment room as the Joker stripped down his prize.

It was later than expected – covering up his tracks upstairs had taken quite a bit of effort. He had not been surprised when the police remained absent – Dr. Arkham had an arrangement with enough of them to ensure that his kingdom could be run sans outside interference.

By the time he had dragged Dr. Tanner back down the tunnel stairs, the solitary wing was pristine again, with brand new residents stuffed into the empty cells along with the corpses of their fallen comrades.

_They can scream all they like – with the good doctor missing, the whole system will fall apart._

“You didn’t kill the other guards?”

“All good things to those who wait.”

“That alarm you pulled will put most of the asylum on lockdown,” Helen complained. “The damn bat is going to figure something is up.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not, but he only cares about the interesting inmates – myself and those I helped him catch. Solitary currently most resembles an abandoned post. Lots of turnover here, you know that – so does he. I’m bettin’ Batman will think Dr. Tanner and his minions skipped town – in a valiant attempt to outrun the long arm of the law. Leaving chaos in his wake slows down the hunt. William, Dwight, and your lovely Alice remain yet, however – do you think they’ll keep meals going, or let the ones left up there starve?”

“Why on earth would you care?”

“I’ve got limited resources – waste not, need less, as it were.” Tapping a finger against George’s lips over his own, he hummed for a moment. “Will lockdown stop the bat from getting in?”

“I doubt it, since he has a guard in his pocket – and possibly more than one.”

“Good, good. So many fun games left to play…”

Looking down at the stripped doctor on the table, Helen smiled at last. The skin where she had been burned pulled to make the expression.

The Joker moved to stand at her side and clucked his tongue. “Do you want to take him for tonight? We can move him to the rolling gurney, tied down and gagged.”

Christmas morning joy shined in her wet eyes as she looked at him. “You’d let me have that?”

“Well, I can share my toys a little. His life and sanity are mine, but you may certainly play. One could say you’ve earned it.”

“Nothing is free, not with you. What do you want in return?”

Wrapping one hand around the back of her neck, he squeezed until she shuddered. They both stared down at the helpless doctor.

“I want you to leave me be tonight and in the morning. No breakfast, forget I exist ‘til I come find you. Food and pills for dinner, and then amuse yourself. I don’t mind if you practice damaging a person... Hmmm?”

She reached out to touch an ankle of their new plaything. “No problem.”

Grinning, Joker released her. “Let’s get him moved to the gurney before he wakes up. After that, ready my tray and meds while I get cleaned up, and I wanna paper cup for water I can actually set down, not those pointy ones. Tuck him in your bedroom out of sight; I’ll fetch him sometime tomorrow.”

“Do you want fresh clothes?”

He nodded absently. “Take care of Brenda and George before you retire.”

“What about the others – they could run?”

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout them. They know Dr. Arkham is a-comin’ home. Currying favor can be rewarding if you don’t leave his house a mess too much.”

“So there’s a plan for them already.”

“Plans are a weakness, pet – and boring – but I have good games for everyone. I always do.”

~ ~ ~

He was feigning sleep on the bed in the nude, when the metal door opened and slammed shut. Opening his eyes, he watched as the bat glared and paced.

“What has you riled this time, precious?”

“I do enjoy making you bleed, but not like that.” The words were clipped, half-gnawed with disgust and self-loathing.

“Ah, I see. Hmm…” He rolled and sat up, delighted that the man still winced and cringed at his blatant shameless nudity. “There’s no harm in taking home a souvenir, a little reminder of your rather bumpy fall from grace. Would it help if I told you I liked it? I did. I do.”

“That is insane.”

“Matter of preference, really.” He rose and blocked the bat’s path, smirking when he stopped with a twitch. “Do I have to fight you to give up what you need tonight? If you wish to take it by force again, by all means.” He reached up to touch the unyielding armor, almost able to feel the tremble of the yielding flesh beneath it.

“We have things to discuss, Joker.”

“You have things to beat outta me, I hope.” One hand dropped to cup and squeeze a cock that couldn’t feel it but no doubt wanted to. “Fuck first, ask questions later, and you’ll find me far more tractable.” Shrugging languidly, he winked and smiled. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

Joker brought a hand up fast as if to strike that frowning mouth and laughed when the wrist was caught in the hard glove. The grip ground his bones painfully, making him pant with lust.

“Empty balls can clear the head, Batty. C’mon – make it hurt or not, I don’t care which.”

He twined his body closer, ignoring the pain in the wrist, and licked the lips with a wet tongue. It only took once before the mouth opened and let him in.

The bat broke the kiss and yanked him in the direction of the table before letting go of the bruising wrist.

“Lean on that, and shut up.”

Clapping his hands once to annoy him further, he yanked the waistband down to his knees and obeyed. This time, the fool needed no more prompting or manipulation to get to it, though he seemed determined to be easier about the force he used.

_Such a damn shame… Then again, leading the horse to water gets easier and easier, too. He’s learning this need can be met – solely by me … perhaps. Odds are good, after all, that he now accepts this due to a guilt-ridden belief that it is all he deserves._

Even though gentler wasn’t particularly his speed, he made himself pay attention and feel it all, every thrust, grunt, and grip of it. The bat had taken more care in slicking and opening him for it, too, and that had been telling – he knew how to do so properly, though spit was all he had to offer as lube.

_Maybe sweet Rachel did like all of her holes spelunked? A pity I never had a chance to play with her myself._

The bat’s cock succeeded in distracting him as it got closer to release. Fingers, already bruising his hips, began to push and pull his body to stab into it deeper. He hummed encouragement as urgency tore concern away. The last thrust burst a sweet jagged pain across his pelvis that made him gasp.

“Oooh, yes, that’s it…” The dark whispered hunger in his tone surprised even him. “Grind it, dig in, darling.”

“No.”

Yet he didn’t immediately pull out. His weight was making the table edge press a mark low into Joker’s belly. The hands let go first, one of them flattening on his back to push until the bat stumbled barely a few inches away. One rough breath went in and out behind him, and then the delicious weapon left his body.

As soon as he could manage it once he was released, he turned to steal another kiss and got the giant brooding rodent out of the mood for talking at an amusing rate of speed.

_Hmmm... I wonder if I could push him to crave a deeper connection? Take the guilty acceptance and blend it with a ghost of what he used to seek from dearest Rachel? Am I that good? Tut, tut, of course I am – if I can avoid dying of boredom. Pucker up, Batty, my lamb._

~ ~ ~

When the muddled fool finally began to remove armor and pile it on the table, Joker silently declared it a victory – his second of the night … so far. Once the cowled creature was naked, Joker approached and embraced him from behind. The strong hands clamped around his wrists to stop him from stroking him.

“Now, now, Lamb Chop, don’t start being gentle again. Bruise the other one – I like a matching set.” The cute little stiff bat ears lowered, but the dick was growing stiff. “Once I finish helping you know yourself, being rough with me is a perfect way to say thank you, you know. Just a thought.”

“Is this the only way you do this – with pain and abuse? Hatred?” the low buzzing voice muttered, head lowered in self-loathing.

_Gotcha._

Joker kissed the muscles of the broad back and smiled when the hands hurt his wrists to stop him – or so the bat mistakenly hoped. Letting the pain flush his body with lust all over again, he kissed the back a few more times. He hadn’t come while bent over the table. He was saving himself.

“It’s not the only way,” he answered, his tone languid and sensual. “Sometimes the pain and abuse are being doled out, instead.” When his wrists were let go, he moved away, but then snagged the bat’s hand and tugged. “Let’s go to bed, precious. Those balls aren’t nearly empty enough yet for my taste.”

His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip to illustrate the point as the bat’s dark eyes began to glow with hunger. Leading him off and lying down to draw him in was perhaps easier since sucking face with the strapping brute had gone so well.

_The things I do for the sake of a good game…_

_~ ~ ~_

Ready for the next round, Joker kissed and licked his way down the bat’s nude body before pillowing his head on the toned abdominals that hid his no doubt pretty pink intestines.

“When I get out, eventually, I might even send you a Valentine; I could always tape it over Gordon’s bat-shaped spotlight on top of the MCU. Or did he upgrade that sans bat, since you two have to pretend to be mad at each other?”

“Valentine’s Day?” the bat asked with disdain.

“Don’t get your little discarded bat panties in a twist. They don’t have Nemesis Day, darling, so we’ve gotta make do. Although, give Hallmark time, I’m sure it’s in the works.”

“When Dr. Arkham returns, I’m going to convince him to sweat you for an interrogation while I watch.”

“I like how you do it better – all this yummy fuck sweat.”

“He’ll know the right mix of drugs to get you talking, and then we’ll find out who you really are, your history – your real name.”

Joker smiled and rubbed his scarred cheek on the bat’s taut abdomen before laying his head on him again, his hand casually holding the semi-soft cock below his lips.

“Dr. Wilson tried that once. Sodium Pentothal – quite a fun little trip it was. Didn’t work, though, which you already know, if you read what’s left of his file on me.” He glanced up, leaning his chin on a scar that he was fairly sure was one of his. “What did happen, precious?”

The bat frowned. “You recited Shakespeare.”

“What, exactly? C’mon, prove you did your homework: a sonnet, soliloquy, ‘To be, or not to be’?”

“Lines from _Much Ado About Nothing_. Dr. Wilson wasn’t amused.”

“Yes, well, Dr. Arkham thought my little jape was hilarious, if that tells you anything. Sodium Pentothal, thiopental to its friends, is probably one of the goodies Dr. Tanner neglected to give me when he parboiled my brain.” Lifting his head higher to meet the dark stare, he smirked at him. “Tell me, Bats, do you regret saving me? That man mighta hit on the only way to ever ‘cure’ me – by burning my skull out to a smoldering husk.”

“No.”

“No? You’re willing to pass up your best shot at stopping me – without breaking your silly little ‘one rule’?”

“I have stopped you. You’re here.”

“Temporarily, even if it takes me years to find a way out – think about that, ‘bout what I’ll do out there. Wouldn’t you let ‘em do it to me?”

“No – it’s wrong; it’s torture and tantamount to murder!”

Joker bent his head down enough to lick the head of the cock between long fingers, keeping his eyes locked on the bat’s. “You know, the, uh, people I will eventually kill when I’m free – if they could see you now, they might accuse you of being a touch biased.”

Slowly, the dark eyes closed, the lax hands fisting tight on his chest. When Joker nibbled the head and then suckled it, the bat swallowed a groan.

“I’ll find a way to keep you here,” he murmured, and then gasped, his back stretching, straining.

“You’ll try, my lamb ... I know you’ll try.”

Joker blew a warm puff of air on the wet head and then caught it in his mouth, sucking it until it grew hard again. Wanting to see if he could turn the creature into a limp rag before he let him come, he backed off and began to let his tongue toy with it.

“Let’s give you another taste of what you need, shall we? You always race to the finish and never savor it. Intense deep intimacy can be something shared without sentiment.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Of course it isn’t, don’t be a pessimist. Relax… I’m gonna almost make you come, make you wait, and then start again. Let go of urgency, let sensation heal your craving.”

“Is that how I get rid of needing this?”

“You have to try to find out. It’s different for everyone. For some, edging works.”

Batman didn’t answer except with his body – as it slowly unclenched and tried to be still.

Good as his word, he went slow and skillfully brought the man to the edge, over and over again. If he began to tense, the pleasuring stopped. When he stilled and let it wash over him, the pleasuring continued.

Inspiration made the Joker turn his head and rub the glans and shaft against his scars, aware the bat was watching him do it. Turning the other way, he did it again, satisfied when it began to leak more of that delicious clear fluid. His hand gripped the base, manipulated the angle, and held the bat’s stare as he made it coat the brutalized crevices between the lumped proud flesh edges with the dribbling slick.

“Would you ever tell me – anything – about you?”

“To quote Shakespeare’s Balthasar – again… ‘Note this before my notes: there’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting.’”

“Just like Dr. Wilson, I’m not amused.”

Joker smiled. The bat was exhausted and flagging. He must not have listened to his advice about getting rest during the day.

“Lie on your side and I’ll finish you off.”

“Not the most relaxing thing you could say,” he whispered, his eyelids drooping to half-mast.

Chuckling softly, Joker shifted when the man moved to do as he had asked. Reaching for the little paper cup of water he’d left on the floor, he sipped from it but made a show of swallowing. “All this licking and sucking makes a fellow a mite dry.”

“Here,” the bat said, reaching for it.

Surrendering it, Joker watched avidly as he drank the rest of it down. The man made a face at the taste.

“I warned you it was brackish, they never fix things here – patients or plumbing. Good enough in a pinch, I suppose.” He sucked on his finger, making sure the bat saw him do it. “Never fear, precious – this will do the trick to relax you. Yes?” he asked, as his other hand gripped the cock and returned to stroking it.

“Yes…”

Humming with quiet delight, he rubbed and pressed, coaxing the tight muscle to allow him inside. Mouth on cock with finger crooked and massaging the sweet spot, he kept it up as long as the bat remained still – until he finally relaxed enough to calm and let his mind drift as his body was manipulated into a quiet and gentle release.

Pearly and perfect, it flowed into his mouth without spurting, like the milk of a dark god. Careful to catch it without swallowing, he let it fall from his ruined lower lip into his palm.

“This will help, too, precious. It will feel good … yes?”

“Yes, it does…”

The dark eyes closed and didn’t open when he used the mix of saliva and cum to turn that luscious hole into a lubed slick mess. Playing with the prostate again as he did it, he observed in silence as the heavy body fell into sleep and took the normally sharp mind with it.

He released the soft cock and withdrew his finger to watch the comatose bat breathe. After maybe fifteen minutes, he whispered, “Precious, are you a goner?”

Hands moving with care, he guarded the cock as he eased the body onto its stomach. Getting up from the mattress, he tested things by picking up each arm and stretching them out over the head.

Joker’s gaze ticked over to the paper cup the bat had tossed away onto the floor. “Brackish … and laced – I warned you not to trust me, Lamb Chop.”

Stifling a giggle, he skipped over to the table and wasted no time digging into the pile of dark toys – the sharp ones and the restraining ones.

As he returned to the drugged and prepped creature lying helpless on the musty bed, the fingers of one hand stroked the cable and cuffs he had found while the other held a bat-shaped blade.

A soft smile stretched his scars as he whispered, “‘Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.’”

~ ~ ~

“Wakey, wakey, Bats.”

Watching gleefully as the eyes fluttered and the toned body’s muscles flexed, he caught the look of misgiving when the dark eyes snapped open, and witnessed its metamorphosis into a sickening fear.

Discovering he had fallen asleep here was probably frightening enough, but then he found he couldn’t move. The cowled head looked up, saw the black cables and handcuffs, and the whole body froze.

_Ah, the fear of finding out the new limits one has been subjected to. I remember it well – and sometimes fondly._

Joker stood near the bed, holding one of the gauntlets in his hands as he grinned down at him, amused by the baleful stare that tried to hide fear. He still couldn’t see how to remove the cowl, neck armor, or breast collar, even with the gauntlet – but that wasn’t too disappointing anymore.

“Amazing, your clever little suit: all those tiny indentions, keyed by a sensor in the ring finger of this one gauntlet. Better than the forefinger, hmm, for avoiding the odd accident? Though you know, Batty, it would be a scream if you went to scratch your balls in the middle of a scrap and ended up flashin’ poor Harvey.”

“What did you do to me?” His face twisted as the truth became clear. “The brackish water – hid a drug…”

“Pay attention, now, or you won’t learn a thing.”

The glorious rage crested all at once, a shattering of jagged ice. “Release me!”

“I’m going to teach you how to release yourself. I can’t make you learn – that’s up to you – but I can make you endure the lesson. Thrash and yell or try to grasp this; it is what you need to understand yourself, to let go of what is blocking you.”

“Fuck you!”

“Mmm, delicious. The blocked mind doesn’t know how to free itself. Dr. Wilson used to tell me to ‘empty my mind’ – an amusing therapeutic method from such an empty-headed fool. I was to imagine a simple wooden chair and learn to sit in it quietly as I listened to him tell me how to become, well, less crazy, I suppose. It was boring, so I stopped listening at all, but I did like the chair imagery. It was all ‘bout letting go, you see, to find a new and calmer place within – a virgin state of mind. Try that, if you like – it might help. It’s all about removing the blocks of want and need, and then you can see how to fix yourself. First, of course, ironically, you’ll ‘need’ a distraction. Far easier to go seeking peace if you’re fleeing from somethin’ else – fleeing metaphorically, of course.”

With an elastic stretch of lips, the smile bloomed in anticipation of the real game at last.

“My God, you are insane…”

“Hmm, well, uh, we shall see? You or me? Here – we – go.”

“Joker, stop.”

“Are you listening? You’ve been opening your mouth like a baby bird nearly every night to know how … to stop. The precipice of knowledge is before you, and tiny birds all must leave the nest to learn to fly – even if they have to be kicked out. So here we are. Time to fall fall fall.”

The bat struggled, trying to manipulate bound limbs. When the cables showed him that his legs were secured rather widely open, he fell still and silent.

 _Pale, haunted … and finally paying attention._ “This is the thing. Most of the time, want is a liar and need is mute. Choice is supposed to serve both of ‘em, but it takes the easy route all the time, only listening to the loudest voice. The secret to achieving sanity is a two-parter – are you ready? Here goes: get what you need, not what you want. For speedier and better results, line up the two; when need and want become focused on the same thing, choice is set free.”

He moved off to set the gauntlet back on the table, trading it for the bat symbol blade.

“You said you need me, to fight – to give you a worthy opponent. I can’t do that if you…”

As he turned, holding the blade as reverently as he had the man’s cock, his student fell silent on a hard swallow.

“Dark, sharp, and beautiful – like yourself – but you know, the most valuable works of art often have … cracks, imperfections. Scars.”

His fingers turned the weapon and ran the tip of it within and around the treacherous path of one of his facial scars. It knicked the proud flesh in a few spots and the blood ran, thin and warm, down to his jaw. He closed his eyes briefly, tongue flicking over his bottom lip, and then opened them to meet the fear and disgust in the shining eyes that locked on his.

“Even … missing pieces,” he continued. “The damage can deepen the worth of the whole, a testament to trials faced and survived. It’s downright alarming how much the body can do without, really.”

The baleful dark stare – equally sharp and beautiful in its fear – didn’t waiver as he approached. As he stumbled back over the thread of his earlier thoughts and the lesson began in earnest, his words hummed with pleasure.

“This is why dear Harvey is doomed – he can’t get what he needs. Therefore, he runs full-steam-ahead chasing want and even sublimates his choice with the toss of a coin. Fractured and doomed, the poor fellow.”

“I want the same thing he does. That means I’m doomed, too, so why waste your time on me?”

“Look, listen: you ‘want’ the same thing. Did you even hear yourself? Oh, you may want sweet Rachel, but she’s not what you need. I’d wager she never was. Plus, you’re sane enough to grasp that having her is impossible – unless you intend to rival me for twisted games and dig her up.” He peered down at him a moment, curious, before clicking his tongue with a disdainful sniff. “Unlikely.”

“You can’t know these things for me. I still need her. Being sane … knowing … that I can’t…”

Joker tap-tapped the sharp edge of the bat blade on his scarred lower lip and waited him out. Filling the abrupt silence, he whispered, “You aren’t one of the cattle. If you were, you’d be lowing in a field breeding your little cow, content – not flying ‘round our fair city risking what I suspect is a rather tenuous sanity at times, in order to catch various nefarious persons.”

“No – you don’t know me, you can’t.”

“Oh, but I do. Being the Batman is all the evidence necessary that one little lawyer with a slit is not what you need. She was a balm at times when your obsession became a burden oh-so-hard to bear, perhaps – yet if she truly was what you need, you would have lain the burden down and chosen her. You. Did. Not. No, no, no – she was an excuse, a distraction, a stall – similar to this attempt to waste the time we have for this crucial lesson.”

“Tell me, then. Explain it.”

“Hmm, yes. I shall, with both words and deeds. Your subconscious has already found a replacement need, one that suits your ... busy schedule. Wanna know another secret? A shortcut? Choice is binding; the absence of choice – now that’s freedom. Do you see? Harvey clings to choice, and so with every toss of that coin, he ratchets his chains tighter and tighter. One day, he’s just gonna pop.”

The bat winced when he made his lips pop on the word.

“How are you going to teach me? Tell me how.”

Moving closer, he sat on the edge of the bed next to the bat’s hips. “Oh, I think you know – quite the staller, hmmmm?” He touched the tip of the blade to the heaving ribs, drawing a little red scratch between two of them as he smiled. “To answer – I’m gonna show you how the removal of choice can set you free.”

“That’s crazy!”

“No ... it’s not.”

“Don’t do this.”

“What will you threaten me with, precious? I’m curious. Will you try to frighten me by threatening to beat me, or to lock me up and throw away the key? Same old song… Or you could tell me you’ll punish me with your cock, make me bleed from it.”

He held the blade to a rib while his free hand slipped long fingers between the clenching asscheeks and forced the bat to endure the feel of fingertips rubbing his slicked-up and already opened hole. He let the fingers play, dipping in and out, making him feel how open and ready it was.

“All these things, you’ve already done … to me. Eye for an eye…”

“Joker … don’t.”

“This is a gift – therapy, if you will. Together, we will help the need deep within you … to find its voice.”

Rising, he moved to clamber over him as the bat struggled, straining to get free. He began to kiss down the spine, stroking the skin everywhere on the way down before licking his tongue back up it. The blade played with him in shallow scratches and little nicks.

“Remember what happened to Charlie – a scratched and sliced back, an abused hole full of cum? He learned his lesson quite well. You should be so lucky.”

Getting into position, he set the flat of the blade down over the spine at mid-back and patted the ass as the body began to tremble.

Stoic now and determined to endure it without giving him what he imagined he wanted – the bat was almost droll in his predictability. That simply would not do.

“Here’s something to really bake your noodle as we both anticipate this lesson – telling me ‘don’t’ … how do you know I haven’t already fucked into this loose slick hole, for hours, as you slumbered?”

Joker smiled at the instant curses and rage when he stuffed three long fingers into him, shoving them in as rough as he could manage with such little resistance, pushing all that silky slick in deeper.

“You don’t know that, Bats – and I’ll never tell. For me, it’s all new anyhow, to experience this with you awake and aware. Yet it may comfort you to think about it. What you fear to lose … maybe it’s already lost.”

The pillow, rather flat, had been folded double to prop up the hips. Slipping the fingers out, he used them to rub and massage up the lower back as his other hand pulled the cheeks open wide.

“If your lower back aches, it happens. Now let’s see if we can teach you … how to find what you truly need.”

Underneath him as he set his cock against the slick loose hole, the body froze and the cursing stopped.

“Precious, if you’ve decided once more to be stoic and refuse to scream, you’re simply missin’ the point. I’m not trying to make you scream – I’m trying to set you … free.” He shoved in on that last pointed word, and the bat’s body convulsed. A guttural sound of rage and horror was torn from his throat. _Pure music, the sweetest of songs…_

Deep inside, the earlier mess made it all easier. The Joker hummed over the tight and shuddering back, landing the occasional kiss to flesh that grew clammier with shock and sweat. The hole he thrust in, as if trying to expel him, tightened down.

Another sound, another siren song, was cut off short when the bat buried his face into the blankets over the thin dirty bed. He couldn’t be sure if it was a curse or a sob, so he strove to recreate it. Pushing in with a bit more rough strength, he smiled when the messy tunnel tightened again.

“Oh, my lamb, oh my,” he whispered over the back as the broad shoulders began to shake. “That feels soooo niiiice…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The immortal Heath Ledger didn’t have green eyes, let alone chartreuse green. However, I was falling in love with fan art images while writing this chapter, and comics tend to portray Joker with bright intense green eyes, generally a rather neon and striking shade. So I decided to toss in a cliché mirror reflection indulgence (Mea culpa!) and mention his crazy bright green eyes as a tribute to the comics Joker.
> 
> "The Land of Cockaigne" is a 1567 oil painting by Flemish artist Pieter Bruegel the Elder. It depicts an uncommon vision of Cockaigne (a medieval mythical “land of plenty”) as an illustration of the spiritual emptiness brought on by two of the seven deadly sins, gluttony and sloth. The painting shows villagers, surrounded by a feast, lying passed out and helpless.
> 
> Shakespeare bits: “In fair Verona, where we lay our scene” is from the prologue of "Romeo and Juliet". “Note this before my notes: there’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting” is from Shakespeare’s "Much Ado About Nothing", Act 2, Scene 3, spoken by Balthasar to Don Pedro. “Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest” is from Shakespeare’s "Hamlet", Act 5, Scene 2, spoken by Horatio after Hamlet dies.
> 
> Hopefully the story has enough warnings for those who may be triggered. I wanted to add here that rape is still rape even if the victim’s body is manipulated to feel pleasure involuntarily. I am not portraying Batman feeling pleasure because he “enjoyed it” by any means. If Stockholm syndrome symptoms occur, or the victim is confused and doesn’t understand their own reactions, or even feels they deserve no better, a crime was still committed and the victim is not to blame. This story is a challenge because I’m not in Batman’s POV, and the Joker will use rape to achieve his twisted goals. He enjoys it because it causes psychological damage, and he knows that forcing pleasure makes it even worse. So that’s my two cents on this scene (which continues next chapter). I don’t judge how anyone else writes a rape scene, we’re writing fiction, and it’s a “you do you” situation. I just ask others to use appropriate warnings and tags, and I hope I have done that.
> 
> Blame the plot and pacing for the awful cliffhanger – I do. This story is about to get a lot crazier in the last two chapters. Thanks for sticking with me on this one when Sabretooth distracts me, and for reading and commenting – y’all are spoiling me. It all feeds the muse. - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	12. Stitches

If it stayed I’d never leave it, if that turned around  
I’d grieve the special dirty things that we used to talk about  
I mean that loving you is strange and adored by me throughout  
oh no it’s you again

Someday soon you’ll find that someone waiting for the chance to beat you  
drooling on the set to feel you, blessing you with every kiss

Tying yourself to me, stitch up my emptiness ‘cause you’re the death of me  
So precious, loving the thrill  
Tying yourself to me, stitch up my emptiness ‘cause you’re the death of me  
So precious, loving the thrill

It’s such the patient one who needs me, the spoiled one who wins  
So shocking where’s your sense, don’t you know I hate you though  
unsatisfied you little girl

Tying yourself to me, stitch up my emptiness ‘cause you’re the death of me  
So precious, loving the thrill  
Tying yourself to me, stitch up my emptiness ‘cause you’re the death of me  
So precious, loving the thrill

Rolling dice and seeming queer, bastard love, a sick affair  
Let’s see what new disease you’ll fetch  
I mean that fucking you is strange and adored by me throughout  
oh no it’s you again, blessing you with every kiss

So precious you know this hate of mine exploded  
I’m so deranged you know I will never be deceived

Tying yourself to me, stitch up my emptiness ‘cause you’re the death of me  
So precious, loving the thrill  
Tying yourself to me, stitch up my emptiness ‘cause you’re the death of me  
So precious, loving the thrill

So precious, loving the thrill  
So precious, loving the thrill  
‘cause you’re the death of me  
So precious, loving the thrill

~ Stitches (Orgy)

*****************************************************************

Joker smiled as he slowed his thrusts. The bat had railed and struggled, though he still refused to scream. His thrashing had made the winged blade over his spine cut him, but before it could fall, it was taken up and used. Drawing light scratches, he allowed deeper cuts if the flesh continued to rebel.

Unable to throw him off and stapled to the bed even if he could have, the powerful body finally ceased to fight at all. By then, crisscrossing shallow cuts bled smooth lines down his heaving sides.

_Hardly a surprise he had to test his new limits to the max before lettin’ futility teach him to stop and look within for escape. Now the real work can begin._

He knew the buttons to press and stroke, how to change things up and force the body to respond to what he did to it. Keeping his mouth close to the sweating bleeding skin of a back as tight as stone, he kissed and licked, and whispered secrets.

“You don’t need dear dead Rachel … you need a way to let go of all the tension locked in your head and body, so that the path is clear to get back to your noble purpose – hunting and vying with me … and lesser fiends, I suppose, while I’m stuck in here.”

Holding off with pauses, he backed out here and there to toy with all the buttons again with fingers. Then he set the blade over the spine and left him entirely to return to the table. Two armored gauntlets wrapped in orange pants and set next to his bat would do nicely.

He got a good grip on the hips and yanked them up enough to push the makeshift prop under the abdomen with one knee before mounting up. It shoved the folded pillow to the wall, and held the hips up high enough for some real fun.

Pressing inside once more, he clucked his tongue at the heavy body’s shudder. Giggling with glee at the new gap to play in, he slipped his hand under, wrapped it around the stiff and thickening cock, and squeezed it. In moments, he had twin rhythms going, massaging the cock and prostate at once.

“No…” The word was almost a moan.

“Don’t you see? This is what you need. Your body knows better than you do. Remember what I told you about shame and guilt, how useless they are – lies, precious … all lies. This isn’t punishment, it’s … food.” His hand squeezed harder, working the flesh mercilessly up and down its length as he thrust, smooth and easy. “Yes, yes, here we go, feel it, crawl inside it, let it have you – and it will set you free.”

Calculating both, anticipating them as close as he could, he pushed himself to come and wallowed in it, making the bat feel every shaking bit as it spit inside him, while working that cock in his hand through all of it. He continued to thrust until the man started to come, controlling the sensations he was subjecting him to until he would end feeling that the pleasure of release, of being emptied, was born of being filled.

The delicious choking groan was sweet. Before it ended, he gripped the gauntlets and pants in his free hand, leaning on the bat and his sticky occupied fist, and tore them out from under him to toss them with a thud over the footboard rail. Helping the trembling body to settle onto the slick mess it had made, he got his hand back.

“Feel that, the emptiness that is left in the wake of all that straining and striving. That is peace, the quiet of it.” He pulled back, withdrawing maddeningly slow. “All confusion held at bay, even rage put in a glass box until you need it. In giving over control, you take control of the parts of you that would not let you become … this.”

Joker rose and fetched the clever gauntlets, putting them back with the rest. He wet the white undershirt from the new prison uniform and used it to wipe the bat’s body down, blood and cum alike.

“The rest you’ll have to tend to yourself, as I imagine once I let you loose, you won’t hold still and allow me clean the front.”

At last, the head moved to look at him. Joker picked up the blade and licked the blood from it while he watched. He set it down on the edge of the table. Turning, he tilted his head and smiled at the silent man on the grungy bed. The broken used look in those dark eyes almost had the power to stiffen his cock again.

“If you want to hurt me now, you know I’ll let you do it. You know I like it. Perhaps now, you understand why.” Lifting his hands, he steepled his fingertips, bumping them against his ruined lips. “You won’t kill me, you don’t kill. So honestly, what do to?”

“Release me,” the bat whispered, low and hollow.

“Very well.”

Picking up the little black handcuff key he’d set out earlier, he freed the feet from the cuffs and cables first. Unlocking the cuffs from the wrists, he didn’t bother to move out of reach, but the bat avoided touching him.

Fascinated, Joker watched as he fled to the table and drew on the gear with a quick and silent dance of desperation. Right over the mess in front, the back starting to bleed again a little, he never paused once. Leaning a bit to see better, Joker spied a few telltale drops sliding down an inner thigh.

 _Like alternating white and scarlet tears._ “Piece by piece, it’s built again ‘round you, but does it feel like armor now or a sarcophagus?” _No response, not even a glance._

Out in the world above, he was sure the sun had risen a while ago. No cover of night remained to hide in.

Before the man could escape, Joker chimed in to break the silence. “Lose something? Besides your virginity?”

Whirling with a baleful glare, the Batman stared with dark eyes widening in shock at the ornate metal key held up in pale fingers. Striding up, he grabbed Joker by the throat in one potentially lethal grip.

“Go ahead, precious – dash my head against the wall if you want to. Stop me the only way you ever could.”

The grip loosened instantly as the man hesitated, but then Joker let the key drop and it was caught with a snatch. Their eyes locked as a trembling fist formed around the key. Time crawled.

_Such a tragedy mask – he can’t comprehend why I haven’t fled and left him shackled and shamed. Only on my terms, my lamb – I’m not finished here yet._

Abruptly, the bat turned away, unlocked the door, and swept out of the cell. The rusty sound of the key twisting in the lock seemed to echo long after the dark shadow was gone.

“As if a golden thread has been cut,” he intoned in a reverent whisper. “Here endeth the lesson – until next time.”

~ ~ ~

The pleasure of causing Dr. Tanner pain almost rivaled his enjoyment of desecrating the Batman. Anytime the naked man lunged for him, he was cut by the scalpel at the end of a long reach. None of the cuts were anything Nurse Helen couldn’t bandage or stitch, but he had learned long ago that most people stopped fighting once they saw enough of their blood. It was merely a matter of how much.

“So now you intend to do to me all the things I did to you, is that it?”

Joker brought his hands up, one bloody, one clean, to touch his lips in feigned shock. “You wound me… No true artist retraces the brushstrokes of another, especially a lesser.” The bloody hand moved, twirling the scalpel, as the other tapped his scarred bottom lip with a fingertip. “No, no, that would never do. And you assume I intend to kill you.” He shook his head slowly, sadly – the disappointed father approach the man loved to use himself. It was hard not to giggle.

Sagging down on a thigh, trembling hands moved to cover a pathetic penis. His rather large balls were probably ashamed of it. They were shaved as clean as a baby’s ass – all of his genital area was. Helen had done it to humiliate him while she was allowed to play.

“You’ll attempt to drive me mad, then – like you did Dr. Wilson. Do your worst. I’ll survive it.”

“Tut, tut,” he admonished, wagging the scalpel in a scold. “No fair guessing, it ruins the surprise.”

“How did you get out? Give me that at least.”

“Didn’t Charlie tell you? I can do magic.”

He sank down on his haunches, perfectly balanced on the balls of his bare feet. The tile was cold, still wet from the violent hose bath. He watched as both water and blood dripped down from the man’s hair.

“I should show you that magic, and I think I may – when I have a better audience.”

Resting the fist with the blade on his orange-covered knee, he tilted his head at his toy.

“What is it that drives you, hmmm? Perhaps you oughta be locked up here. Is it sociopathy? Everyone over and under these rocks knows you’re the worst kind of sadist – the bored and boring type. I’ve always entertained the idea that your truth isn’t entertaining in any way. Delusions of not enough grandeur? You never climbed as high as you thought you deserved? Am I warm or cold?”

“Just get on with it, whatever it is you have planned.”

“Plans are for the weak and the shortsighted. You don’t beat your wife, they say. You just fuck her relentlessly. Then you come here and fuck Nurse Alice. Sex addiction? Dominance and power addiction? I’d guess the latter. Sex is just the tool you use, often blended with physical and psychological cruelty and humiliation. I do know something ‘bout all that. Rumor has it, you write your own scripts for Viagra but the bottle in your desk empties fast. That stuff’ll make you go blind, you know.”

Slowly, he rose and set the scalpel down on the instrument tray. Dr. Tanner was so focused on him, he never noticed the nurse coming up from the side. At his nod, she popped the man with the syringe she held before stepping back out of reach. His panic was delicious. Joker flicked his tongue out, hoping to taste it in the air.

“What is – no! No!”

“Succinylcholine is bucking for the number one spot in my heart. You can’t move, but you can feel. You can knoooow. I’m going to fix you, Dr. Tanner. You’ll see. I’m gonna make you alllll better.”

“Are you serious about this?” Helen asked him, as she headed for the door to follow his other orders.

“Sweet pea, when am ever … serious? Hop, hop – get it done.”

When she left, he swiftly leaned over the doctor and pulled him up to slump against the wall. Giggling at his lax face as he tried to mutter nonsense, he gripped the torso and hauled him up over his shoulder. The exam table was close and ready and he half-tossed, half-placed his patient on it. The straps and cuffs had to be adjusted a bit.

Helen returned wheeling in another cart of tools and supplies. He gave her a twist of a smirk as he yanked the toy down more and reached underneath for the gynecological stirrups. She looked away instantly and left to return with a stool. Enjoying her discomfort, he strapped the feet in with the legs held open wide.

“Now we wait; it won’t take long for the sux to wear off.”

Sitting on the stool between the legs, hands up as she put latex gloves on him, he began to hum. The moment Dr. Tanner could move enough to struggle, Joker let out a sigh of anticipation.

“Since I want to be certain it’s memorable, I won’t ask what your last tryst was like.” He wrapped long fingers around the small flaccid penis. “We’ll just make sure. Do your best, no pressure.”

He worked it rough, nearly threatening to yank it off. Stoic resistance had set in and the teeth were clamped tight as tears ran down the temples and the body strained against the straps. Playing with the smooth soft sack, he gave it a gentle erection-inducing squeeze. When that failed, he asked his nurse for one of the tools she hadn’t wanted to give up to the cause. The buzz of the thin long vibrator made the eyes fly open again. As it was pushed dry up his ass, it aimed for the prostate and played with it until the body had no hope left of denying him what he wanted.

Pointing the flushed head at the stomach, his smile stretched long and crooked as it spouted milky cum onto it. Releasing the penis, he let it sit where it fell. It was out of his way, as the doctor himself would be – soon enough.

“Remove the vibrator, hmmm?”

As she obeyed, she muttered, “I’m not sure I can do this – I’m not trained for it.”

“All you need to worry about is keeping him alive.” Reaching over to the tray she moved beside him, he picked up his scalpel. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

She had sterilized it. Frowning at her, he looked up and met the terror in the watering eyes of his catch.

Ignoring the topical anesthetic on the tray, he held the skin of the scrotum up and out and made a neat incision an inch and a half long slightly left of center. Watching the blood spackle on the gloves, he set the scalpel on the tray to pick up his new tool. It resembled a long twin-handled pair of pliers. The screams died in a choking fit the moment the doctor saw it.

“This is called a Bertschy Emasculator – no joke. Alas…”

Huffing breaths and shouts, curses – they washed over him like music as he held the tool in one hand and worked a finger into the bleeding incision to fish for the little pale testicles. Popping them out one by one, he opened the stainless steel clamp and held both of the defenseless glistening globes as he set it over the spermatic cords and closed it on them. Working the cutter, the cords were severed while the clamp crushed the blood vessels.

Humming again, he set the back-lock to retain the crushing pressure for at least two minutes, as recommended by the nurse to avoid hemorrhaging. As he drew his hands back, the one he had used to cut the man in many places with the scalpel caught his attention and held it. The blood on his skin had smeared into interesting patterns inside the glove, while the white latex had been dappled with scarlet drops on the outside. It was beautiful.

“Joker? I need to stitch the scrotum up. Your vet toy can reduce trauma with minimal blood loss but the rest…”

“Hmm? Oh, yes – all yours.” He scooped the little white abandoned testicles into one palm before he moved out of the way and gave her the stool. “Roll it up or poke the excess inside, whatever you like, but I don’t want it hanging down empty. Stitch it as I cut it, I want him – I want everyone – to see the ruin I made of it. You of all people should be able to appreciate the sentiment.” His free hand gently patted her burn scars as she struggled not to flinch. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Moving up to the thrashing head, he pried the jaws open, let the testicles roll and bounce in, and shut the mouth.

“Shhh, shhh, shhh… Just swallow – it’s the only way you can keep them, now.”

Laughter burst from him as the eunuch doctor choked and swallowed. He went to gather up the goopy milky cum and rubbed it over the lips and into the mouth as the screaming began again. It had that sweet special note in it – the hysteria and shock of a mind just starting to crack.

He moved to lean against a wall and watched as the nurse finished what he had started. There was still much that needed tending to and the dice of choice had to be rolled as he went, but he had learned to savor all the little things. It made the hard work worth it.

“It’s done. He needs to be still for the body to recuperate.”

“Well, he ain’t goin’ anywhere as he is. You’ve got bed pans and catheters – enjoy yourself. Gag him and hide him before sunset; I’ll play with him later.”

“Where did you get that castration tool?”

“The office, in that toy box footlocker of Dr. Arkham’s – it was new-in-box. There was even a card. Delightful that the families of some victims would send such a gift to the doctor charged with treating the muddled soul that knocked their lives off-track. They are the sheep who want to evolve into wolves. I admire that.”

Pushing away from the wall, he stripped off the latex gloves as she sedated the man. She brought the gurney and he helped her move him onto it. They secured the straps and she got ready to wheel what was left of their mutual enemy to her room.

“One more thing – I want a note sent upstairs to the records department. Tell them you’re working on a request for Dr. Arkham in preparation for his return. I want the files of all the patients from Solitary, any exceptionally difficult patients, and another folder marked Staff Performance Reviews. The latter is in the good doctor’s office upstairs, filing cabinet, bottom drawer.”

“What if they won’t send them without him here in person? All of that is confidential.”

“With the chaos going on upstairs and the staff trying to hold it all together as Dr. Tanner goes missing as well, they’ll be delighted to have someone making a go at being an authority figure. It may as well be Dr. Arkham’s favorite nurse for special projects.”

Her chin rose, tugged by marionette strings made of the shreds of pride and self-worth that she had left. “I’ll get it done.”

“See that you do. Leave ‘em on his desk for me when they arrive. I need to get back up there.” He hummed out of tune as he headed out to the doctor’s office. “Collect all five…”

“You are going to kill him … aren’t you?”

His head turned to gift her with a smile. “Maybe I’ll let you do it – perhaps I’ll make you do it. For now … waste not, want less.”

In the office, Joker’s fingers danced through Dr. Tanner’s clothes and possessions that had been heaped on the therapy couch by the nurse. Hanging by a clip on the white coat was the badge, but it was mere identification in a heap of stones as old as Arkham. When he felt it in the pants pocket, still clipped by a chain to the belt, he cooed as he pulled out his prize.

“Oh, you’re beautiful … come and play with me, we’ll have such fun.”

The set of keys on a ring, Dr. Arkham’s keys, fit neatly on a palm. They couldn’t open the Citadel doors, that key had been removed before handing the rest over to Dr. Tanner before he left, but they would open everything else. The full scope of Arkham’s labyrinthine paths, cells, and treasures opened up in his thoughts as possibilities raced through them all.

Looking up as the nurse appeared in the doorway, his grin stretched from here to obscenity as her burned face grew paler. “Tell daddy the truth, sweet pea – the thought occurred to you to hide these.”

“It did – but I didn’t. Now, you could get the records yourself.”

“I’m not a fan of libraries full of moldy files. Tedious tasks are what flunkies are for.” Touching the keys like a lover, he smiled fondly at them. “The only one missing, he removed and hid – until you gave it to the bat. Funny, isn’t it? The most obvious tool that grim beast thinks he has against me, and I don’t even need it.”

“With those, you could leave – through any door above ground. You’d be free.”

“Aaah, my little temptress, marked by the fires that forged you and yet you are the one who’s lost among the stony wastes. Do not put the Lord thy God to the test.” He hung the keyring on a thumb and started to strip, shedding the snake skin of orange and white prison clothes. “Watch and see what you feed when you offer to feed me.” She struggled with her fear, staring at his tumescent nudity. “You don’t want me gone; you need me to get the revenge you’re too afraid to seize for yourself.”

Fisting his hand over the keys, he crooked a finger to bring her closer. Cupping her burn scars with his other palm, he drew her face up and kissed her mouth as his cock nudged at her, gauging whether or not she would dare to flinch or resist. Her trembling yet pliant yield pleased him, so he let her go without injury.

“Freedom isn’t outside any door, pet. The only real prisons are here.” His words lowered to a breathy whisper as he brushed the backs of fingers over her temple. “And here…” The hand settled over her chest. Once the heart rate under his palm increased, it slid over to grope her small breast. Leaning in to breathe at her ear, he murmured like a lover, “The rest is nothing but a dance amidst the ruins of our own making, choosing which fires will warm our souls. Open your prison doors yourself, and when you do, reach for that fire of revenge and let it burn you if it must – until your enemies char before your eyes.” Snaking out his tongue, he licked the tip up the outer shell of her ear. “Yessss…?”

“Yes.” She almost choked the word.

“You are my tool, to use as I see fit. Aren’t you, sweeting?” He stared her down, smiling only when she dropped her gaze and nodded. Delighted, he patted her shoulder and stepped back to return to the black leather fainting couch.

Still pale, she remembered to breathe. “I brought you the scalpel, since you’re heading back upstairs.”

“Holding up your end of the bein’ useful bargain already.”

Winking at her, he began to pull on the doctor’s clothes. Some of it was snug, some was too big, but he found it all manageable and not restrictive. The scalpel came in handy to make a fresh hole in the leather belt so the pants wouldn’t fall from his hips. Donning the white but slightly messy coat, he tucked keys and blade in its deep pockets and straightened the badge dangling from the breast pocket.

“You’ll have earned a reward once you get me those files. Fingers crossed for sweet Alice.”

That brought the ghost of a malicious smile back onto her lips.

~ ~ ~

From the hidden door that led into the solitary wing, he could go anywhere. First, he checked on the guards and their one addled neighbor. They were alive and quite upset, probably in need of water and food. For a moment, he missed having Charlie around – he’d been quite useful.

_Would they have brought him back here? Batty likely won’t tell me – perhaps the files will._

Leaving behind the shouting and screaming, he fished out his keys and unlocked the route most likely to lead to his remaining playthings – the staff elevator to other sections of the asylum. Keeping Nurse Helen’s warnings in mind about his appearance and gait, he masked them whenever workers appeared, but the whole place was like a ghost of its former occupancy. The remaining staff were people he’d never seen before, while those he knew were loyal to Dr. Arkham more than the rule of law were scarce.

_They know, like rats fleeing a sinkin’ ship. Wise rats._

“Doctor! Oh, please, we need to know what to do.” The voice was female, matronly.

He stopped but didn’t turn. “I’m going to make an announcement for Dr. Tanner. Find his treatment staff – George, William, Dwight, and Nurse Alice. I need their assistance.”

“That witch should be locked up, doctor. She’s in the staff lounge, fornicating with one of them. I can try to find the other two for you.”

“Excellent, thank you. Which lounge?”

“I just came from there, down the hall, then left. Are you from another wing? So many didn’t come in today, we don’t know what to do; there aren’t enough of us to care for –”

“Yes, yes – I’m going to tell you all what to do.” He whirled fast and walked by her, not giving her a chance to get a good look at him. “Find those men, send them down to Solitary, we need them to do their damn jobs. Then spread the word, I want the rest of you to gather in the atrium. Secure any doors the lockdown didn’t, no one in or out just yet – there may be a breach. I found Dr. Tanner – he’d been attacked.”

“Oh, my God… But doctor, what about the patients?”

“Security first, nurse. Quickly now.”

“Yes, doctor. Thank you, sir.”

He was down the hall and around the corner as her rushing footsteps echoed behind him. He could already hear Alice – in the throes of being a witch, allegedly.

Whichever goon was shoving into her cunt as he opened the door didn’t bother to pause or look around from where he had Alice up against a wall. He’d managed to commit to this enough to be naked. She was in her usual uniform sans panties.

“Go fuck yourself, Sarah,” the goon grunted out, presumably to the woman the Joker had sent on errands, “unless you wanna be next. I don’t mind chasin’ chubby.”

It was the voice of the one whose finger he had broken in a session – Dwight. He took in the rest of the scene – it was normal enough, except for the bruised and bloody patient on the floor not far from them. Dwight had likely borrowed the man from his cell and beaten him to death to entice the nurse.

Joker popped the cap off the scalpel with a thumb inside the pocket and slowly drew it out as he approached.

Nurse Alice turned her head and her mouth went wider when she saw and immediately recognized him. He put a finger to his lips and spread a grin behind it. The moment that twisted hunger began to glow in her eyes, he knew she wouldn’t give him away.

He approached with the scalpel held low. Lungeing forward the last few steps, he plunged it in at the base of the spine and ripped it upward. At the neck, he stabbed the jugular. Dropping the blade, he slammed his grip around the goon’s wrists and kept the meaty hands on the wall, shoving his body into the gory mess of the back. Using all the strength his rest had returned to him, he shoved a thigh between the man’s legs and laughed as he made the dying thing thrust inside the bitch again.

Alice howled like a nymphomaniac possessed – not one shit did she give for perhaps being next. “Yes, you sick freak,” she near-growled at him, “make him fuck me, dead dick fucking me, fuck! Do it!”

Dwight’s blood was everywhere, soaking their clothing, clotting in their hair. Joker’s cock had gone hard the moment he had attacked and he used the freshly lax corpse for friction as he shoved at it to make it fuck her.

Her shrieks counted out her orgasms until the heavier body began to tilt in his grip. Stepping back, he let it go and watched as it was torn from her to hit the floor.

“You! Fuck me!” She shoved her glistening cunt at him under the pushed-up skirt.

Joker, his cum slicking his stolen pants, ignored her demand as he casually picked up the scalpel. Straightening to face her, he suggested, “Fuck him. Roll him, fuck him as he dies. Hurry up, almost there.”

Screaming in frustrated rage, she did it without a blink, too manic to notice the fool was already gone. The moment the dead man’s cock was sat on, she fucked herself on it as she pushed a finger straight into the stab wound on the neck.

Impressed, he watched her moan as she pumped it – until it became obvious she might not ever stop. Reaching down, he grabbed all of her blonde hair in a fist and hauled her away as she grabbed at his wrist, clawing and screaming.

Dumping her over the beaten patient’s corpse, he set one of Dr. Tanner’s shoes on her cleavage to hold her still.

“You can’t even imagine the games I can create for you. I offer you the chance to find out – but you have to obey me. Are you curiouser, Alice?”

Wide blue eyes finally moved from his face to the blade. Her throat worked, her voice almost hoarse from screaming. “I am – but if you let me get bored, I’ll do what I want. I always do what I want.”

Letting a giggle of pure delight escape, he removed the shoe from her heaving barely-covered tits and reached down to offer her a hand up. “Then we’ll have to align what we want, and what we need, hmmm?”

“I want to be fucked.” Her hands immediately began to grope him once she was upright but he grabbed one wrist and twisted the arm up in a painful hold. “Stop…” she whined. “I need dick, I need it…”

“Obey or I’ll hurt you quite a bit more. Shut up. You know what you want and what you need. The lethal thrill, the violence: you need those things more than a cock, don’t you – more than your own safety or sense of self-preservation. My kind of girl, really. I’ve been makin’ due with Nurse Helen.”

Alice tried to fight his grip and hissed her hatred – for any other person with a cunt, probably. “That skinny frigid bitch is useless! Let’s kill her, please … let me watch, and then fuck me while she dies…”

“Music to my ears – if and when I say.”

Observing her face as it crumpled and the eyes welled with tears, he had to stifle a sigh. She wasn’t that complex a mess after all. Her appetites were amusing, but he already knew how to control her.

 _I wonder if Dr. Tanner figured it out – likely not, or she wouldn’t have kept fuckin’ the goon squad against his orders._ “I’ll let you have more of what you want than Dr. Tanner ever did if you please me. But you have to earn having … me.” Working his features into a soft and protective smile, a fatherly smile, he kissed her blood-spattered forehead. “Be a good little girl and you’ll have everything a bad little girl ever needed. Yes?”

“Please, yes – but fuck me, please? I want you…”

“Earn me.”

The moment he released her arm, she tried to grab his crotch so he backhanded her. She cried out when she hit the floor and he watched the defiant glare melt in an abrupt triggered wash of tears and sobs.

“Sweet Alice…” He crouched beside her and twirled the bloody scalpel into her bloody golden curls, playing with them. “Don’t make me fit you with a chastity belt … or sew your cunt shut for good.” Leaning down, he kissed her curls. When the body didn’t move or try to grope him again, he repeated in a whisper, “You’ll be my good bad girl, yes?”

She looked away, trembling and moaning when he stroked two fingertips over a stiff nipple begging under her uniform top. “Yes … I will.”

Walking away from her, he observed her as she rose. “Find your heels, fix yourself up.”

Alice obeyed and he saw the version of her who could maintain some self-control slide back into place behind her wet cold eyes. Violence done to others fed her addictions but violence done to her fed her damaged soul – and allowed him to own her, to make her as docile as her first owner had trained her to be.

_Father, uncle, priest? Some creature or other who discovered her malady, emptied himself into her, and bludgeoned her to obedience. It hardly matters. Tools are all the same – one merely has to find the way to use each one._

By the time she looked at the bodies and faced him again, she appeared to be once more the haughty bitch that had watched him rape Charlie through the window of his cell.

“What about them? Someone will find them; it’ll cause more trouble.”

“I need them to do that – leave them as they are.”

“What about Dr. Tanner?”

“My dear Alice – I already have him. I’ve gelded him, I’m afraid. Yet if we make a stop or three on the way down, we can collect a few playthings for you. Would you like to give him the most mocking blowjob of his life while being fucked from behind by one of them?”

“Yes…” she whispered, “I want that. He was boring and useless. He needed … pills.” She nearly spat the word.

Joker laughed as he turned to head for the door. “Cardinal sins, to be sure – I agree. Come along.”

With the keys, as yet without the files, he made his best guess on which inmates to release. Picking five strapping ones by which of them made Alice preen, he chose another five from the ones that knew exactly who he was already and seemed clever enough for what he needed. What he actually needed was unfolding in his head as he went – making him giggle at his own cleverness.

“It’s a good start,” he told her with a smile as they all followed him. “One more stop in Solitary. We’re going to feed and water my prisoners and fetch my stereo. Once that’s done, you can play with your toys there, as long as you also play duty nurse and keep the others at the ruse of being staff.”

Turning abruptly to face her, they all stopped short, afraid of him but eager to please him. It felt like home.

“This is the important part, Alice – if the Batman shows up, and he might, tell him we’re having a mini-crisis because Dr. Tanner left without warning. Nurse Sarah has things in hand on another doctor’s orders upstairs, you have no idea who, and you’re holding down the fort in Solitary. The locked up men there are guards, but we’re gonna dose their food and use their clothes to turn our boys here into guards. Got it?”

“Yes.” She inched closer, as if trying to warm herself at his chaotic fire. He allowed her to slide her fingers up his bloody coat. “Can I play with the Batman?”

“No, he’s mine, mits off. Keep up the role of duty nurse and do it damn well, or he’ll put you in a cell on suspicion alone.” Reading her body language, he let her move closer and embraced her as she pouted. “You’ll do fine. Now, the one milksop guard who comes in for the midnight shift, do you know which one I mean? Mr. Lost His Family man. What’s up with him, did you hear anything?”

“Oh, that one had his hours cut by Dr. Tanner. He’s only in Solitary for three hours, starting at midnight. He’s supposed to stay at the security desk and keep watch on the cells with monitors, no rounds. We think he leaves the desk sometimes but we don’t know where or why. Dr. Tanner didn’t seem to care.”

“I have my suspicions. Let him do whatever he wants as long as he doesn’t become a problem. Keep our new patients drugged after your new friends swap clothes with them. Arkham is in lockdown, so if the Batman discovers the extras and asks, tell him and his pet guard they’re patients who got loose elsewhere.”

“I will.”

“Change to a clean uniform or wash this one. As long as our ruse is in order, you can fuck your toys as much as you want.” He took in the ten men around behind her, all of them watching with rapt attention, hearing his every word. Kissing her cheek, he released her to address them. “You know the game as it presently stands. I reward loyalty and the alternative is grisly. Alice gives the orders if I’m not here – if she wants your dicks, they’re hers. You’ll like that, I think. Nobody fucks up, nobody dies, simple and neat. Let’s get to work.”

~ ~ ~

Helen’s disgust was delightful. “Cheer up, sweet pea, at least I didn’t bring her down here to lord over and torment you.”

“I thought the plan was to bring her down here to torture and kill her.” She set his dinner tray down on Dr. Arkham’s desk, frowning and stiff with anger and frustration.

Joker rose from the fainting couch clean as a whistle in fresh orange pants and smiled as she backed away. He sat and picked up a fork. “Tsk, tsk, plans shmans, I told you all that is for the weak. She’s a tool, a puppet, nothin’ more. You’re my partner in crime, aren’t you?”

That chin rose again, deepening his smile. “Yes – but she’ll make a poor tool. Alice is erratic and actually disturbed, you know that.”

“Don’t fuss, it’s handled, I found her strings and tugged ‘em. Alas, she turned out to be dull in that regard. That only leaves toying with her impulses and addictions: check and checked. For now, she’s useful to me.”

“So you find her boring. You prefer to figure them out and twist them – she’s not good enough for your attention. Give her to me … when she stops being useful.”

“Mmm, perhaps. Really, I find it impressive that Dr. Tanner didn’t smack her around and discover her buttons. I find her … obnoxious, generally. Sooner or later, I’d have punched her and found them by accident. Still, in moments of urgency, one must make use of marionette strings that are already attached.”

“Dwight is dead?”

“Very dead. Dead, dead, dddead. It was a lovely time. I’ll have to ask Alice why he didn’t have his finger splinted still.”

“That bitch probably ripped it away to hurt him; it’s the only way she gets off.”

Joker ignored her grousing and began to eat. Her hatred was useful but also tedious, since she balked at killing.

“His body was left up there, in a staff lounge? Why?”

“All manner of possibilities – he’s a pinball in a vast machine. The missing patients could be blamed on him; he did fish one out to beat on to amuse Alice.”

“And the rest of the staff is in the atrium now, with patients left to starve or rot? While Alice plays house in Solitary like she doesn’t deserve to be slowly taken apart?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He gave her a wink. “Don’t try to figure me out, sweet pea – there’s nothin’ to figure out. I just do things… Life is more fun that way.”

“So what’s next?”

He twitched with growing irritation. “There is no next, haven’t you ever listened? Even if I had a next, it would be different tomorrow.”

“What do you want me to do, then?”

“Clean up the tray, keep working on getting my files, torment our neutered friend before bed, stay out of the way in case my pet bat comes sllliiinkin’ back.”

She slumped where she stood, obviously at a loss. “Okay.”

He finished the food, treating it as utilitarian fuel only, and on impulse patted his freshly cleaned mouth with the napkin like a dandy – solely to irritate her further.

“It was such a shame to wash up but a necessary thing – can’t let Batman see how much fun I’ve been having while he sulks.”

“You think he’ll come back? Whatever you have going on in there, he usually goes through the foyer so enraged, he leaves static in the air.”

“Aww, that’s so niiice of you to say.”

When she gave him a wary strange look, he grinned and leaned back in the chair, waggling his hands on the end of the wooden arms of it just to focus on the movement with one corner of his mind. It helped curb the impulse to stab her tongue.

“What you want to do here, nothing you do will go well if he’s around.”

Huffing out a breath as a sigh, he frowned and then went utterly still. “One of the troubles with having a partner in crime who isn’t insane: she actually cares ‘bout logic and the awful confinement of plans and schemes. She has no true understanding – of the beauty of chaos. Those wonderful nutjobs up there,” he lectured, finger point-jabbing upward, “includin’ pussy-on-a-fuckstick – they don’t ask questions, they don’t nibble away … nibble nibble… They just … do – like me!” His voice had flown up an octave into delight before it fell again, tinged with anger. Dropping his chin and steepling his fingers at his bare chest, he fixed her with a piercing stare. “And once they’re put in their place… They. Stay. There.”

Helen took a step back, wisely getting the anvil of a hint. Her thin fist made a whisper tap on her leg. “Of course, yes … I’m sorry, I’m just trying … to help.”

Curling up the frown back into a tolerant smile, he pushed up on the desk and rose. “You’re just … cleanin’ up and retiring for the night.”

Fear in her eyes again, she crept closer to get the tray and backed away with it. “Good night, Joker.” She turned and disappeared.

With a sniff of annoyance, he went back through the passage and into his cell. She hadn’t cleaned anything or put fresh linens down over the thin mattress of the bed because the bat thought she couldn’t enter the small dank room. The stale smell of all he’d done on it with and to that giant flying rodent was a rich perfume that sparked music in his head.

“Hmm, ended up leaving my stereo in his cell, but he’ll be fed better now. Didn’t want Alice pounding away on his white rabbit. Strange.”

He stripped and left the new clothes folded over the little flat prison shoes. Lying down to sleep, he had no idea if he would wake woefully unmolested or if the bat would come and play. Closing his eyes, he tucked his hands under his face and let that pinball fly.

~ ~ ~

When the darkness in the mind stared back, he woke to find the bat perched lightly against the edge of the table.

Sitting up with a stained patch of sheet in his lap, he leaned his shoulders against the stone wall and stared back. “As if the softest trail of gossamer might spook it, the shadow breathes. Preceded by hunger and followed by … is it regret? The phantom of you lingers.”

“Insane nonsense,” the rasping voice ghosted out from the dark core.

“Not at all – poetry for lovers. I’ve missed you.”

“Arkham seems to be falling apart over your head.”

“And I’m missing it – such a shame.”

“Dr. Tanner is – rumored to be – missing.”

“That’s on your watch, Lamb Chop. You know precisely where I’ve been – pining for you.”

“I should toss this room, search every inch.”

“Now you’re just trying to make me jealous – or pay me a compliment? It’s hard to tell with you.”

“There are prisoners missing, staff and security missing. At least two men are dead. Lockdown procedures are in effect, but that could be helping whoever is behind it all.”

“Have you considered that Dr. Tanner may have stirred the anthill on his way out? That long arm of the law you wanted to reach out and grab him with is far too slow – you agreed with me on that before.”

“I… Maybe he would have. I’m not convinced he left at all.”

“Oh, come on, Batty, all this pointless shop talk! I’m dying of boredom in this hole. Get in mine, mmm? Help me pass the time in my cruel little box?” He patted the bed beside him.

“If I touch you – I might end up killing you.” The dark head bowed, the hard gaze shifting down. “This place is a plague, it infects everyone in it. Everyone…”

Joker rose on chilled bare feet. The movement brought the stare back up, unwavering this time in the face of his pale nudity. Still and silent, the bat watched him approach. The dark eyes were pained, haunted. No matter what rage simmered under the surface, the jumbled mess he’d made – no more than showing the man his own deep unknown self – also roiled and pitched within.

He didn’t try to touch; he just stood there before him, hands lax at his sides. “You needn’t trouble yourself ‘bout the state of this heap of stones. Dr. Arkham will return, you said so. That’s the only fix you need. Missing patients know their true Pied Piper; they’d follow him through a breach into Hell. They’re afraid of Dr. Tanner, the careless, the cruel.”

“Dr. Arkham never struck me as a warm and caring man.”

“I never said he was. I said they would follow him.”

A black fist shot out and opened to wrap around his throat. The pressure was almost gentle – like a whispered threat. It made his cock twitch.

“Your voice is lodged in my head. You’re locked in here, but you dig in like a cancer. What you … did… I can’t think, I can’t sleep. And you … you’re just … here.”

“Part of me is perhaps always here, even when I leave this place.”

“No. I have to keep you here, one way or another.”

The fist tightened, choked, but then the eyes widened in horror and the fingers released him. Joker stepped in close immediately, courting violence and thrilled to dance with it. He grasped the gauntlet before it fell and pressed it against his lean abdomen, his fingers stroking it.

“So lost and broken. I wish I had something real to call you,” Joker whispered, “but I don’t ever want to know your secret, it would spoil this. My tattered gossamer shadow – there is nothing else left to guard from me, is there? The minutiae, I never wanted. The scattering of the shards of you, I would gather them up and work at them until I created something truly fearsome, darkly beautiful. It’s the being broken but not yet remade again that pains and torments you. You’re unfired clay free from the constraints of the mold they forced on you.”

“You broke me.”

“No, precious, that’s not the truth. I broke your mold. We need to finish – setting you free.”

Those eyes met his and when he leaned in, not sure if he’d be kissed or killed, he couldn’t care which. The eyes closed and as their mouths met, the arms moved and crushed him against that hard and cold barrel chest – yet beneath it, the heart within beat faster.

When the kiss ended, the man tearing it to break it, he let him go so fast that the Joker nearly stumbled. He couldn’t help a gasp of anticipation as he saw the dark hands releasing the armor.

Moving to help, he was surprised that he was allowed to. Armor and weapons, piled and abandoned, were forgotten as he walked backward and led the stalking creature to the bed. He was pushed down on his back, limbs manipulated and body squirming under that sucking mouth and thick fingers. Opened and penetrated, obliterated, he went loose and allowed it all, whatever he chose to take. Crushed under that weight and brutalized by glorious needless force, he came between their bodies just at the thought that fighting it would get him damaged worse. It was almost tempting to do it.

Riding the wave of the man’s hate and need, he felt acutely alive – more than any other violence he’d done to others had given him.

“You’re my drug, aren’t you?” He gasped out the words, barely able to breathe. “The rest are so pathetically shaped, controlled, used and cast aside.” Aching and soaring as he was used himself, his voice dropped to a guttural desperate threat. “They are nothing. Nothing! Do you understand what you’ve done?”

A heavy strong hand covered his mouth. He bit it and the Batman let him draw blood. Unable to move or speak, he wrapped his legs around the pumping hips and tried to pull that violence deeper inside. The other hand shifted to choke him and just before the world slid away, he bit down harder as the feeling of the awful, beautiful weapon of flesh filled him.

~ ~ ~

The large mass of breathing muscle lay at his side by the stones. Barely healed wounds covered the broad sculpted back. Masked and silent, nude and still below the black collar, the Batman was sleeping beside him.

He woke when nudged onto his stomach and the muscular back tensed, but he offered no resistance. Fingers, then tongue, finally flushed and hot cock, the body was still – accepting him within it. Neither of them spoke as the Joker rutted in him, eager yet smoothly, as much as he could manage.

The cowled head turned to stare at the stones as Joker gritted his teeth and thrust rough and harsh at last. He remained inside as he came, and after – lying at ease as his cock went soft in that heat. Reluctant to move at all, he withdrew and made himself lie beside the brute again.

Quiet and lost, the rasp spoke, answering the question he hadn’t wanted to break the silence to ask. “It was pointless to fight you. If I start… I can’t…”

“Ifs run you in circles. But I understand, precious, I do.” He stretched languidly and shuddered at the soreness inside. _It’s good, sooo fucking good._ He turned his body to stroke and kiss the shoulder and back, cupping the ass. It flinched only a little but accepted the long finger he pressed in to explore and tease. The moan he worked for and eventually got was a ghost of muddled passion. “You’re still loose … and slicker now.”

The voice sunk. “Do it… I don’t care.”

“Mmm,” he hummed and kissed the back as he climbed up to lie on it again. A soft chuckle trickled through him when he reached the chiseled lower half of his face and saw the bright gleam of an almost feverish dark eye watching him. “I’m not that good. One has to recharge all that, pet.” Kissing the spine, he smiled when the body under him shivered. “You know I love those fists. We could catch our breath and have a row – then fuck again as the bruises set in. I could even forego blades,” his fingers traced the healing marks within reach, “should you want to play with blunt force trauma only. You do seem to like it so much.”

“I don’t know what I am … anymore. What I’ve become, it’s –”

“Don’t be a slave to a false construct of social morality.”

“No, it doesn’t matter, this. It’s done. Others…”

When he felt silent, Joker stroked to soothe and murmured over that delicious skin, “Tell me, my lamb, just tell me.” He reached down under his body and turned his wrist at an odd angle to fish it inside, to rub and entice.

“Some people are innocent – not us, but … others. They deserve to live in peace. That’s why I have to … keep you here. But I have to leave before you destroy me, before I let you.”

“Hmm… There is no such thing as ‘innocence’, Bats.”

“There is, there has to be.”

Joker was silent a while, getting the body ready again as the mind that governed it shut down. As the man huffed a breath and shifted, he aimed for a low groan of helpless quiet lust. He spoke softly once he got it, as a mother might explain to a wounded child.

“There are only the larval and transition stages of corruption. In your beloved system of laws, each poor worm struggles to make its way and either dies trying to eat to live or makes that sacrifice – knowing that the pupa of change, the hard shell of what we all must learn to do to survive, is the only path to evolve. Within, they eat what they used to be and emerge: glorious creatures ready to dry their wings and fly. Monarch butterfly or Death’s Head moth? Not knowing what each worm will become is the true beauty of life and death. Make no mistake, both of them must corrupt what they were to achieve the ability to fly above the horror of the world – a world people like you are forcing them to endure. I merely help them … enter that chrysalis.”

The Batman rose up onto his forearms and let his masked head droop down. “Some make it – within the law. It’s possible.”

“Left to struggle and crawl? Oh, precious… I may be a kinder shepherd in the end. How curious indeed.” He moved lower and opened the asscheeks, set himself to push in. Anticipation hardened his cock for its work at the mere sight of the resignation as his lamb sank into despair beneath him. “Why crawl when you can fly? Now, where were we on forming your chrysalis? Oh, yes, hmmm – right … here.”

Pushing in slow, he chuckled at the weak and brief struggle his taunt had inspired as the bat’s body began to writhe under him, gasping in need. Gritting his teeth in the grip of a vicious and delicious lust, he answered that need with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has gotten pretty brutal, which I’m enjoying perhaps too much, but I just love Joker, he’s one of my sickest guilty villain pleasures. I’m also told I may enjoy writing insane/evil characters “too much”. Is that even a thing? (Anyhow, I promise I’m so very nice and safe in real life, honest, LOL.)
> 
> “Golden thread” refers to the thread of life cut by the Fates in Greek mythology. “Here endeth the lesson” is a Bible phrase, often at the end of a story or parable. Joker’s Bible quote, “Do not put the Lord thy God to the test”, is Matthew 4:7. He does see himself as her god but using the quote is largely an irreverent joke; he probably would know the Bible backward and forward solely to use it against some of his victims and to keep people off-balance around him.
> 
> One more chapter left after this. If I find a typo (throughout), I shall fix it. Apologies for the update taking forever – I’ve battled illness, brand new allergies, rescuing my computer from a burp in a cranky update, and of course, a pushy and demanding Sabretooth next door in my other fics. Joker is actually quite a challenge to work my way into his headspace, too – he’s not as easy to jump in and out off as some others. So thanks so much for your patience and as always, thanks for reading and commenting! Hearing all of your lovely words feeds the muse and makes the time and hard work worthwhile. - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic, anongrimm-blog.tumblr.com)


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